Rising from the Ashes
by L. Dora Willows
Summary: Chapter 14 posted! Finally, the plot takes off! Harry, Ron, and Hermione go to look for Horcruxes. In Chapter 14 occurs a discovery, and the beginning of the quest for the horcruxes! [RWHG and HPGW] Chapter 15 coming soon!
1. Letters

**Author's Note:** **This is my first Book 7 fanfic, and I hereby disclaim all rights to the characters and anything else you may recognize.**

**RISING FROM THE ASHES**

_Chapter One – Letters_

It was nearing midnight on the 29th of July, and all the houses on Privet Drive had their curtains drawn, with no visible light pervading through the fabric.

All, that is, but one.

A window on the second floor of number four, Privet Drive, did not have its curtains drawn. A faint yellow light could have been clearly visible from the street, had it not been deserted.

If anyone had bothered to peer in through this window, they would have seen a boy with messy black hair, piercing green eyes, glasses, and most peculiarly, a lightning bolt scar imprinted on his forehead.

Harry Potter sat on his bed, concentrating with all his might on the enormous volume he was reading. He looked up every so often, glancing nervously at his bedroom door and anxiously rubbing his nose. He then returned to his intense reading.

Minutes later, a soft tapping on his bedroom window made him jump. He looked up apprehensively.

Four owls were sitting on the windowsill. Hedwig, Pig, what looked like a Hogwarts school owl and an owl which Harry did not recognize were staring back at him.

"Hello, Hedwig," he murmured pleasantly, setting aside his book. He strode over to where his owl was perched and opened the window to let the owls in.

Hedwig let out a hoot in response, which was muffled by the frog she had clutched in her beak. She dropped the letters she had been carrying into Harry's outstretched palms before retreating into her cage to devour her new catch. Pig hooted excitedly, flapping his tiny wings and darting around the room. He finally gave Harry the two letters he had clutched in his beak. He flew around the room, finally settling on the top of Harry's dresser. The Hogwarts owl, which also had two letters, and the unknown owl followed suit.

Harry plopped back onto his bed, spreading out the letters in front of him.

He recognized Ron's untidy scrawl, Hermione's neat handwriting, Hagrid's scribble, and a Hogwarts letter. However, there was still one letter of which the identity of the sender was unknown to him. After momentary consideration, he picked up Ron's letter first.

_Hey mate,_

_Mum and Dad reckon we're going to pick you up from the Muggles' on August 1st, is that alright with you? Sorry we can't come sooner, but mum says we have to pick you up after your birthday so that your mum's protection will be sealed, or something like that. Blimey, this ancient magic confuses me. Hermione would probably master it in an instant, though, she's just brilliant, isn't she? Anyway, Bill and Fleur's wedding is on the 8th , so the whole week beforehand will most likely be preparations and mum going mental over dresses and decorations. Ever since Ginny and I got home, she's been going on a cleaning rampage. Hermione's here already, and she and Ginny have been doing what she calls 'female bonding', meaning talking about their feelings and rubbish like that. Wish I could hear what they're saying; it'd be a right laugh to hear the inner workings of the female mind spoken aloud. _

_See you soon,_

_Ron _

Harry's heart did acrobatics in his chest as he read Ginny's name, and he wondered vaguely whether she had talked about him. He could, in theory, ask Hermione, but knowing her she would probably refuse to divulge the information, telling him that what was said between herself and Ginny stayed between them. She might also thoroughly annoy him by giving him that knowing look, and ask him once again to rethink his decision. He wanted to do that more than anything in the world yet could not for Ginny's safety. If something happened to her, he could never forgive himself. With a heavy heart, Harry laid Ron's letter on his bedside table. In spite of the circumstances, he was quite looking forward to going to the Weasleys', and was counting down the days until he was rid of the Dursleys forever. When he turned seventeen, would finally be able to do magic outside of school.

Next, he decided to read Hermione's letter. He missed his two best friends very much, and reading their letters made him feel closer to them. It was only a week's time until he would see Ron and Hermione again. However, the thought of the day after the wedding made his stomach churn unpleasantly. Who knew if Bill and Fleur's wedding was the last time he would ever see the pair of them? He needed to go look for the last four Horcruxes, and he was planning sneak out of the house in the early morning the day after the wedding. The last thing he wanted was one of his best friends dead. He sighed heavily, and opened Hermione's letter.

_Harry,_

_I arrived at The Burrow just yesterday, and I've been spending a lot of time with Ginny. She's so excited about the wedding, as am I. I've never been to a wizarding wedding before. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever attended a wedding at all. However, I've read all about them, and the weddings in the wizarding world and the Muggle world are remarkably similar. On the other hand, they do have a few major differences. Anyway, Mrs. Weasley is bustling around the house, worrying about hair, make-up, clothing, invitations, and so on. And Ron…well, Ron is being his usual self – a completely hopeless prat. Harry, I know he's your best friend, but he can be _so_ insensitive sometimes. Anyways, we're all missing you, and here's to a happy early birthday, we'll write you again in a few days._

_Love from,_

_Hermione_

Harry chuckled. Typical Hermione, reading up on everything from wand cores to weddings. He suddenly realized he had never been to a wedding either, and sincerely hoped he wouldn't mess anything up due to his lack of knowledge.

As for Hermione's comment about Ron, he _could_ see it from her point of view. Nevertheless, he had always felt that Hermione over-reacted about Ron. Sometimes he couldn't help being insensitive, just like Hermione couldn't help being a bit of a know-it-all at times. It was in both of their natures.

He positioned Hermione's letter next to Ron's and reached for Hagrid's. He jumped as he heard the sound of footsteps heading towards his room and dove under the covers, switching off his bedside lamp and nearly knocking over his water glass in his haste. He closed his eyes and feigned sleep, his heart pounding as Uncle Vernon barged into his room in his tartan robe and slippers. He opened one eye just wide enough to see his uncle look around suspiciously, and then storm out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Harry rolled over and looked at his alarm clock, which read 3:34 AM. He groaned, and decided to save his remaining letters for the morning. He closed his eyes once more, and feel asleep almost instantly, exhausted.

…

_He was rising from a pile of ashes, his enormous wings unfurling as he raised his beady eyes towards the moonlight. He flew away from the ground, his body spiraling as he flew higher and higher. He soared across the vast, empty countryside for what seemed like hours, until finally he spotted a mass of fiery red hair below him. He swooped down upon it, landing on the shoulder of the body to which the hair belonged. _

_Ginny smiled at him, her kind brown eyes sparkling. She nodded at him, and gently gripped his scarlet tail feathers. He took flight, once again soaring through the seemingly endless countryside. Ginny was suddenly at his side, perched upon a broom. Laughing, she took off and he sped after her. They were racing, playing follow the leader, or just hovering in mid-air and looking at each other. Then, the sun began to appear from beyond the horizon. Ginny gave him a small, sad smile, a light kiss on the beak, and vanished._

Harry awoke with a smile on his face. It had been the greatest dream he had ever had, and best of all, he had been free.

…

"Get up, boy!" Uncle Vernon shouted through Harry's bedroom door. Harry wearily opened his eyes, yawning. His uncle added a few bangs on the wall for good measure and stormed off.

Harry stretched, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and got out of bed. Five minutes later, he was dressed and downstairs making breakfast for his 'favourite' family.

_Two more days,_ he reminded himself as he beat the eggs. _Two more days until I can leave this place forever._

…

When he had finished preparing the breakfast, he brought it over to the dining room table where the Dursleys were waiting.

"It's about time!" Uncle Vernon barked, stuffing eggs into his mouth. Dudley leered at him with his piggy eyes, licking cream cheese off of his bagel. Aunt Petunia was the only one not eating. She glanced from Harry to his uncle almost fearfully, and then began to eat her grapefruit, her horse-like face studying Harry with every bite.

"Erm…" said Harry, who was still standing and not quite sure if he was allowed to sit down and eat breakfast too. The three looked up at him wordlessly.

"Well, then," said Harry. He grabbed some food for himself and joined them at the breakfast table, sitting catty-corner to Aunt Petunia and Dudley, and across from Uncle Vernon. He was fully aware that the only reason his surrogate family was tolerating his presence was the same reason he was tolerating theirs; today was his second-to-last day at number four, Privet Drive.

After several minutes of silence, Harry spoke.

"As you know," he began, but was cut off by a loud belch from Dudley, who grinned.

"That's m'boy," Uncle Vernon chuckled jovially. "Healthy lil' lad." Harry rolled his eyes. Thankfully the display of annoyance went unnoticed by his aunt and uncle, and he continued.

"_As you know_, my birthday is in two days. I will be seventeen, which, in the Wizarding world, means I will be an adult. This means that, being an adult, I won't be penalized for doing magic outside of school. It also means I no longer have to live with you. My friend Ron Weasley and his parents are going to come and pick me up a day after my birthday. I expect you to treat them with respect and courtesy, and if you do not I will not hesitate to use magic on you, as by then I will be legally allowed to."

Of course, it was against Wizarding law to use magic on Muggles, but the Dursleys didn't have to know that. "I guess that's all," Harry finished lamely, amazed to have gotten off unscathed. He picked up his dishes to take them to the sink, leaving a stunned silence in his wake.

…

Harry finished washing all the plates, glasses, and silverware from breakfast. He was just about to head up to his room to respond to Ron and Hermione's letters, as well as read the Hogwarts letter (even though he had no intention of going back) and the letter from the unknown sender, when he was stopped by Aunt Petunia. Uncle Vernon and Dudley were still in the dining room, chatting about Dudley's latest boxing match.

"Come with me," she whispered fiercely. "Don't let your uncle or cousin see you. And hurry!"

Baffled, Harry obeyed, following her as she marched briskly up the stairway, a feeling of foreboding weighing down his chest.


	2. Jaded Emerald Eyes

**Author's Note: Many thanks to everyone who reviewed, especially RussellGirl15! Thanks for pointing that out, it's been fixed **:-) **If anyone has any better ideas for a summary, please tell me! Just to clear something up for someone who chose to email me instead of reviewing: The evening which Harry is reading the letters is the 29th, and the next day is the 30th. Hedwig was carrying letters from Ron and Hermione and Hedwig was carrying letters from Hogwarts and Hagrid. The anonymous owl was carrying – do you _really_ think I'm going to tell you?**

**RISING FROM THE ASHES**

_Chapter Two – Jaded Emerald Eyes _

"I didn't know we had an attic!" Harry exclaimed.

"Well, now you do," Aunt Petunia replied begrudgingly. It was clear that cooperating with Harry was going against her wishes, and he couldn't fathom why she was doing it in the first place.

She pushed open the sliding door on the ceiling, and Harry followed her up the ladder, being unpleasantly reminded of Divination lessons.

"Close the door behind you," Aunt Petunia called, and Harry did as he was told.

Aunt Petunia pulled on a string that had been dangling from the ceiling, and a single bare light bulb lit up, dimly illuminating the tiny room. It was empty, with the exception of a thick layer of dust and a single box in the center of the attic.

It was quite small, and encased in black velvet. A golden latch kept it closed, and red swirls decorated the cover.

"What's in _there_?" Harry asked curiously.

"Be patient!" Aunt Petunia snapped. Harry rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

"Your mother left this in my possession," said Aunt Petunia, and it was clear she was not at all happy about it. "I would've thrown it away or sold it if that old wiz…man…hadn't forced me to keep it for you all these years. I was left instructions to save it for a few days before you turned seventeen. So here you go." She walked over to the box, picked it up, and shoved it unceremoniously into Harry's arms. She marched across the attic and climbed down the staircase, leaving Harry staring at the box in shock. His aunt's words echoed in his ears.

_Your mother left this in my possession…_

Hands shaking, Harry slowly opened the box. Upon seeing what was inside, he let out an audible gasp.

It was a ring, the most beautiful ring Harry had ever seen. The finger band was flawless gold, and even after all the years of being hid away in the box, it had not lost its luster. But what caught Harry's attention was the stone. It was a single emerald, but from that emerald, magic and energy seemed to radiate, permeating throughout the room, and Harry could feel an odd tingling sensation spreading across his flesh.

As Harry gazed at the jewel, transfixed, he felt the energy that coursed so strongly throughout the room begin to spread throughout his body. He felt the tips of his fingers tingle, and jumped in surprise, nearly dropping the ring.

As he fumbled with it, Harry noticed an inscription on the inside of the golden band. His parent's initials were inscribed, with a plus sign between them, and after that, an arrow that indicated they had given birth to Harry, as his initials followed the arrow. Below that, Harry's initials had been carved once again, with a plus sign and a place for another set of initials to be engraved, followed by an equal's sign and a heart.

Harry felt his emerald green eyes prickle and well up with tears. This ring had belonged to his mother. It was the only relic of hers that he had. It appeared that when the ring had been made, his parents had left a place for him to engrave his name along with his love's.

_Ginny... _Harry thought despairingly. He shook his head sadly. After a heartfelt moment, Harry noticed an old sheet of parchment folded in the box. Tucking the ring into his pocket, Harry unfolded the parchment and read,

_October 24th_

_Dearest Harry,_

_If you are reading this letter, it means you are almost of age, but your father and I, sadly, are not with you. _

_We would have loved to see you grow up to be the man you are today, but that is not possible. Because of a prophecy that was made before your birth, a malevolent wizard by the name of Lord Voldemort has his mind set on killing you. Spies within his ranks have carried information that he is planning an attack. Even though we have had security spells cast upon our house, and we have a secret keeper, there is still a risk of something happening to us. _

_I have placed an ancient magical protection spell upon you, Harry, with the help of Albus Dumbledore. If I sacrifice myself to save you, you will have my love and protection in your blood until you come of age._

_As I am writing this, your father and I are in hiding, and you are asleep in your crib. You always look so peaceful while asleep, Harry. You look just like your father, but you have my eyes. _

_Harry, I hope that when you are reading this, you have some knowledge of your father and I. Knowing my sister and that brute of a husband of hers, they will tell you nothing. Ideally, Sirius, Remus, or Peter will be taking care of you if something happens to us but not you, and I'm sure they will have plenty of stories to tell. _

_But I digress. The purpose of giving you this ring is to protect you, even if we can't anymore. When your true love wears it on her finger, you will both have an ancient magic spell of protection upon you. Alas, it will not keep you from dying, but it will keep you in good health and good spirit. _

_With love,_

_Your mother_

Harry sat down on the dusty wood floor with a thump, in a state of complete shock.

_She knew…_ he thought wonderingly. _She knew that someone was going to betray them, she just didn't know who. _He felt his hatred of Peter Pettigrew increase tenfold at that moment. None of the misery in his life would have happened if it had not been for one rat ... so, the real one to blame was Peter Pettigrew, also known as Wormtail. Wormtail was the name that the three Marauders, Harry's father, Lupin, and Sirius, had given him.

_Why did they trust him?_ Harry wondered angrily. He felt a burning, streaking hatred rush through him. If Wormtail had not betrayed his parents, Voldemort would never have found them, if Voldemort had not found them, they wouldn't be dead, If they weren't dead, Harry would have grown up living a normal life, with no scar, no Rita Skeeter, no sneaking into Hogsmeade, no Triwizard Tournament. He could have been with Ginny … He would have had a perfect life, had it not been for two words: Avada Kadavra.

Clutching his mother's ring to his chest, Harry tried to concentrate on the good in his life. If he allowed these dark thoughts to take him over, eat him up inside, he would just sit around all day and wallow in his misery. He could not let that happen.

_If I want to defeat the monster that caused this misery,_ Harry thought fiercely,_ I have to fight. I can't sit around feeling _sorry_ for myself; others have lost loved ones too. I'm not the only one suffering. _

Soon, yes, very soon, it would be Voldemort who suffered. Harry would make sure of that.

But the one Harry loved could never wear his mother's ring. Not when Voldemort was still out there. It was a twisted paradox; Ginny could not wear the ring while Voldemort still led his reign of terror if she were to stay safe, and yet the ring would help to protect her and Harry, but would not be needed after Voldemort fell from power.

…

After spending a few more heart-felt minutes in the attic, Harry went back to his room to read the remaining letters.

When he returned, he found that all the owls were still there, waiting patiently for him to read their letters, or in Hedwig's case, write a response.

_Ron,_ Harry wrote,

_The Muggles are treating me alright, and I will see you at 10:00 on the 1st._

_Say hello to your family for me_

_-- Harry_

Hedwig hooted impatiently.

"Just one more minute," Harry promised her, and picked up another sheet of parchment to write to Hermione.

_Hermione,_

_Thanks for the birthday wishes. I will see you on the 1st_

_-- Harry_

Harry felt a little guilty at the brevity of his letters, but what he really wanted to say to the pair of them he could not risk putting into a letter.

"Here you go," Harry held his responses to Hedwig, and opened his window. Hedwig took them in her beak and flew away, and Harry reached for the school letter. It was thinner than usual.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock._

_There is no need to purchase supplies; all textbooks will be provided this year_

_Yours sincerely, _

_Professor M. McGonagall_

_Headmistress_

"I'm not going back." Harry insisted aloud, and cast it aside, reaching for Hagrid's letter. With a pang of sadness, Harry noticed the big wet tear marks scattered across the parchment. Hagrid had written this letter while crying.

_Dear Harry,_

_Well, it's been decided. Hogwarts is going to reopen. Minerva's going to be Headmistress and me the Head of Gryffindor! Imagine that, eh? Who would've thought? Of course, Hogwarts won't be the same without Dumbledore. Not much will be. He was a great man, that Dumbledore. Now, the purpose of this letter isn't sadness, we've all had our regrets about Dumbledore's death, but if I know him he wouldn't want us to dwell on our sadness for too long. I've actually got some happy news for ye. Olympe and I are to be married. What with Bill and that Delacour girl's wedding, I started thinking how there might not be much time left for everyone, and we should enjoy the company of our loved ones while it lasts, and that goes for all of us. _

_See you in September,_

_-- Hagrid._

Harry felt a pang of guilt as he took in the implication Hagrid had left. But no, he couldn't reconsider, no matter how much he wanted to.

Hagrid was to be Head of Gryffindor! And married! As he himself had said, _who would've thought…_Harry smiled in happiness, glad that Hagrid seemed to be recovering from his grief at Dumbledore's death.

Dumbledore…someone Harry had been frantically pushing out of his mind ever since term had ended.

He missed the company and wisdom of the old wizard dearly, and found himself going back on his promise, wishing that things could be different. But then, Dumbledore's words of advice swam to the front of his mind.

_It does not do to dwell on dreams, and forget to live, Harry._

Dumbledore was right.

He had people on his side. To care for, to fight for.

To live for.


	3. Back to the Burrow

**Author's Note: I'm truly sorry if the letters haven't been up to par, but I'm getting a little tired of having to write at least one letter for every chapter, I promise this is the last one for awhile! –wipes brow- Thanks to all my reviewers, especially RussellGirl15 again! I fixed the sting/string error, and made the concept of the magical radiation more clear. Don't worry, the plot should start to pick up in the next few chapters. My goal is to have the wedding chapter finished by the end of Spring Break (Sunday, April 16th) Also, in case anyone gets confused, Hermione has been at the Burrow for a few days, but she left for the day to spend time with her parents. WOW that was a long author's note. Sorry bout that. On with the story.**

**RISING FROM THE ASHES**

_Chapter Three – Back to the Burrow_

Harry awoke on his birthday in the early hours of the morning to find the mysterious owl pecking him impatiently on the nose. He sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his bright green eyes.

Hedwig and the Hogwarts owl had already flown away, and this tawny owl was the last left.

"Alright, alright," Harry muttered, taking the letter. The owl gave a dignified hoot, and flew off.

_Strange birds, owls,_ mused Harry. The fact that every owl seemed to have its own personality had always puzzled him. Perhaps it was the influence of the magic they were always around that gave them their individuality.

He ripped open the letter, and read.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_It has come to our attention that you are the inheritor of a number of items in the will of the late Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brain Dumbledore. It is requested that you attend the reading of the will at 10:00 AM on the 5th of August, at Gringotts Wizarding bank, located in Diagon Alley._

_Signed,_

_Griphook_

Harry sighed, placing the parchment with all his other letters. People were certainly making it hard to forget his grief.

_Wonder what Dumbledore would have left _me,_ of all people?_ Harry couldn't help wondering.

Well, he would have to go to Gringotts anyway, before he left to go looking for horcruxes, as he certainly couldn't be out in the world without money for food and shelter.

Now that he no longer had to deal with the insistent owl, Harry lay back onto his pillows, planning to get in a few more hours of sleep before the Dursleys awoke. The thought of time made Harry wonder vaguely just _how_ early he had awoken, and he glanced at his watch.

4:00 AM.

A jolt went through Harry's stomach. It was 4:00 AM on July 31st. It was his birthday, and he was seventeen.

This was the day he had fantasized about since he had been accepted to Hogwarts. He could do magic outside of school, and in just over twenty-four hours, he would be leaving the Dursley's forever.

However, it also meant he would be significantly less protected against Voldemort than before. Harry still didn't quite understand how the ancient magical spell worked, how he had managed to survive all these years.

_Maybe Hermione knows_, Harry thought. He would ask her when he arrived at the Burrow.

Looking around the room, Harry realized that now would be a good time to start packing, and scrambled around the room, gathering up various articles of clothing, books, and personal items. He had picked up his last sock when he dropped every thing on the floor with a _thump_.

"What on earth am I doing?" he wondered aloud, disgusted at himself. He could do magic now, couldn't he? He might as well make use of it!

"Wingardium Leviosa," he called, and everything in the pile flew into the air, hovering over his trunk. Harry grinned. What would his aunt and uncle say if they found him using magic in their home? He lowered his wand, and everything fell into the trunk in a heap.

Harry shrunk his possessions so that everything would fit. This way, he didn't have to go to the trouble of folding and strategically stuffing textbooks so that they would fit between his broomstick and his spare shoes.

Now he was free to do as he pleased until tomorrow. Heart pounding in anticipation Harry lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Just one more day until he was free forever.

…

"Bring me my coffee!" Uncle Vernon ordered, banging his fist on the table.

Harry rolled his eyes, but complied, and sat down to eat lunch.

He watched his Uncle drink, his wide eyes bulging as he gulped down the hot fluid. He smacked his lips, and dabbed his mustache. "Alright, now clear the table, you worthless freak."

Dudley sniggered, but Harry's face grew red with rage.

"No!" He shouted, knocking over his chair in his anger. He stood up, bracing himself on the table. "This is the last straw. Today is my birthday and I am an adult. I don't have to listen to a word you say because tomorrow I'll be gone. You have treated me like scum my entire life, and I refuse to cater to your needs for one more second. Clear your own table."

It took all the resolve he had to not pull out his wand and hex his uncle then and there, but he relented.

"What in blazes…" sputtered Uncle Vernon. "After all we've done for you, all these years. How _dare_ you, show some respect!"

Harry simply turned his back on him, and marched up to his room.

Dudley looked from his mother to his father. "Once he leaves," he asked, "Can we turn his room into an entertainment center?"

…

The first of August could not have arrived fast enough for Harry. He had not received one single birthday card, not even from Ron or Hermione.

_I suppose they're too busy to remember my birthday_, he had thought darkly. But his hurt was pushed out of his thoughts by the excitement of finally being rid of the Dursley's. True, he would be entering a mad house, what with Bill and Fleur's wedding drawing near, but it was far better than spending the rest of the summer at 4 Privet Drive.

"So how will these people be arriving?" Aunt Petunia asked suspiciously. "I'm still trying to get soot out of the carpet from their last visit."

"They will get here how they get here," Harry said forcedly, "And you will treat them with respect."

It was a wonderful feeling, to be able to speak his mind, to no longer have to take abuse from the people who had made his life hell. They knew that if he was angered he could very well turn the lot of them into toads if he pleased, and had been a bit more polite than usual.

Aunt Petunia need not have worried, for four members of the Weasley family arrived at their doorstep on foot, and could have passed as Muggles if they were being judged by their dress.

Harry answered the door with a huge grin on his face. "I'll just get my stuff then?" he asked, holding it open as Ron, Fred, George, and Mr. Weasley.

"Yes," said Mr. Weasley, "Ron…Fred...George…you three go and help him. I want to have a chat with the Muggles about _eckletricitry_."

"Er, that's _electricity, _Mr. Weasley," Harry whispered on his way up the stairs.

"Right you are, Harry. Just as I said, elecktrilcily."

…

"Well, here we are," said Ron.

Even though Harry and Ron were now of age, they did not yet have their apparition licenses, and had to do side-along apparition with Fred and George. Ron, incidentally, wasn't too pleased with the arrangements.

"Remember, boys," Mr. Weasley warned. "Don't rile up your mother, she's very – er – stressed at the present time." He seemed to be directing his comment to Fred and George, who looked at each other and grinned.

"Of _course_ we won't, dad!" Fred promised, trying and failing to look innocent.

"Yeah," added George, "What in the name of Merlin would we get out of frustrating our dear old mum to her wits' end, however amusing it might be?"

"Absolutely nothing!"

"I, for one, am astonished you would think such a thing of us!"

"Astounded."

"Thunder-struck."

"Stunned."

"Flabbergas—"

"Enough, you gits!" Ron demurred, rolling his eyes at Harry.

"Oh, don't mind Ron," George said.

"Yeah, he's just grumpy because his favorite brunette left to spend time with her parents yesterday and still hasn't returned," Fred winked.

Ron's ears turned scarlet.

…

"Oh, it's so good to have you here, Harry," fussed Mrs. Weasley.

"Good to be here, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry bemusedly, watching her as she hemmed Fleur's wedding gown.

Using a mannequin as her model, she was adjusting the train so that it swept gracefully around the hips, coming to rest lightly on the floor.

The fabric looked like butter in her hands as she pinched together the sleeves with bobby pins. It was pure white, and had an intricate pearl design in the front. The skirt was not fat and puffy as wedding gown skirts typically were, but long, slim and form-fitting. The bottom splayed out gracefully, just a few inches longer than the mannequin itself.

"Molly," breathed Mr. Weasley, "That gown is beautiful, where did you find the galleons – er, I mean, wherever did you buy it?"

Mrs. Weasley flushed with pride. "I didn't buy it," she informed him, "I _made_ it."

"It's amazing, mum!" exclaimed the three Weasley boys.

"Do you really think so?" she asked them breathlessly, straightening up and tucking her loose red hair into a bun.

"It really is, Mrs. Weasley," Harry assured her.

"Well dear, you've done such a wonderful job of making it, even us men can appreciate it," Mr. Weasley chuckled.

"What we're _really_ appreciating is how the wearer of the gown is going to look," said Fred in an undertone.

"Hey, watch it," came a voice from the doorway, "That's my bride-to-be you're talking about."

"Bill!" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley in despair. With a flick of her wand, she sent the mannequin and her sewing supplies flying to the back of the room, and out of sight. "You can't see the gown before Fleur wears it, dear, it'll ruin everything.

"Don't worry, mum, I didn't see a thing," Bill said, entering the room and leaning against the wall.

His hair was as long as ever, and the same fang earring still hung from his left earlobe. Most of his wolfish features had faded slightly, although his hair was slightly darker and more thick, and his teeth slightly longer.

Mrs. Weasley eyed it in distaste. "I do hope you'll take it out for the ceremony, dear," she said disapprovingly, "To think what Fleur's family would say."

"They won't _care_, mum," Bill said exasperatedly, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, but _Bill_ this is your wedding you _do_ want to look presentable don't you?"

"I reckon that's our cue to head upstairs," said Ron quietly, and the four of them did as he suggested.

…

"So, has Fleur arrived yet?" Harry asked, sitting on Ron's bed.

"Nope," said George, leaning against the dresser and twirling his wand lazily between his fingers.

"Charlie's flying in from Romania the day before the wedding, and Fleur and her family are coming around 11:00 AM the day _of_ the wedding," Ron explained, taking a seat next to Harry and picking up the latest edition of _The Adventures of Marvin Miggs, the Mad Muggle_ and rifling through it.

"Where will they all sleep?" Harry asked perplexedly.

"Dunno, but we'll let mum worry about that, won't we?" said Fred, "The reception's going to be in our backyard, but what with nearly three hundred guests, I'm at a loss as to how we're all going to fit."

"Dumbledore would've had an idea," said Ron quietly.

The four of them sat in silence for a few minutes, until a noise outside made them all jump.

Ron ran to the window, and peered out, but shook his head in disappointment and sat back down.

Fred and George exchanged grins.

…

Hours later, when the sky had gone from a bright blue to navy with pink and orange tinged clouds, Fred and George stood up, turning to leave

"Well," said Fred, "It's been fun."

"Loads of laughs," added George.

"Indeed."

"Verily so."

"Entertaining, to say the least."

"Quite."

"WILL YOU PRATS GIVE IT A REST?" Ron bellowed.

"Temper, temper," teased Fred. He peered out of Ron's door. "Well look at that, it appears Miss Granger has arrived."

"Well," said George brightly. "I smell dinner, so I'm off. Coming, Gred?"

"Undeniably, Forge."

They left.

Harry and Ron looked at each other.

"I'll be right back," said Ron, and he too exited the room.

Harry sighed, leaning back on Ron's Chudley Cannons pillow. He hadn't seen Ginny yet, and his brain was telling him it was a good thing, the less he saw of her the better. His heart, however, felt differently.

Several minutes passed, and he could hear faint traces of giggles and an occasional "Ssh!"

When five minutes had passed, and Ron had still not returned, Harry got tired of waiting and headed downstairs.

He was greeted with a loud "Happy Birthday!"

The Weasley family and Hermione stood before him, beaming. The table behind them was full of food, and the floor in front of them was piled with presents.

Ginny stood dead center, clutching an enormous cake, with seventeen candles that looked more like firecrackers, and had to have come from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

"Make a wish," she said softly.

He did.


	4. Dudley Dursley

**RISING FROM THE ASHES**

_Chapter Four – Dudley Dursley _

The next three days passed without much excitement. Harry, Hermione, and the Weasley children spent their days outside; playing Quidditch, lying in the grass and talking, and most importantly, avoiding Mrs. Weasley and the mayhem of the wedding. Or, in Harry's case, avoiding Ginny.

Everyone was rather reserved the day of the reading of Dumbledore's will. Apparently, Ginny, Ron, Fred, George, and Hermione had all gotten the same notice Harry had, so they would be traveling to Gringotts together.

"All right, dears," said Mrs. Weasley breathlessly, straightening the collar of Ron's robes, "We best be off if we're to make it on time."

She marched over to the fireplace, and gathered a handful of Floo powder. "Gringotts Wizarding Bank," she said purposefully. She dropped the powder into the fireplace, and stepped in after it. In a flash of light and soot, she was gone. The rest of them followed suit.

…

Seconds later, Harry stumbled coughing into the main lobby of Gringotts. "All right there, Harry?" asked Mrs. Weasley, brushing soot off his shoulders.

"Y-yes," he managed to choke out.

Mrs. Weasley suddenly became business-like. She straightened up and said firmly, "All right, you lot. Follow me."

Mr. Weasley walked beside her, and they were whispering to each other urgently.

"What d'you reckon Dumbledore left us?" asked Fred, "I know I didn't have the sort of relationship with him that Harry did, none of us did." The Weasley children and Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Yes, but whenever you two pulled another of your pranks, he always seemed to enjoy them. It's not like you got the worst possible punishment either, did you?" Harry reminded the twins, slightly put out.

"Oh, right," George said, "Good point."

They walked along in silence until they arrived at a door with a plaque on it, pronouncing that it was the room in which the last will and testament of witches and wizards were to be read.

"Well," said Mr. Weasley unceremoniously, "Here we are."

He pushed open the door, and marched in. Harry, Hermione, and the Weasley children followed.

In the center of the room was an old oak table with thirteen chairs, four of which were currently occupied by Neville, Hagrid, Professor McGonagall, and Luna Lovegood, of all people.

Harry pulled up a chair next to Neville, who was seated next to Luna and Ron next to him. Hermione took a seat next to Ron, whose ears were scarlet for some strange reason, and Ginny next to her. Fred and George took their places across Ginny and Hermione, and next to the twins sat Hagrid, who beamed at Harry through his tears. Professor McGonagall was seated near Hagrid with one empty chair between them, and Harry wondered vaguely who would occupy the other three chairs.

He did not have long to wait, as just minutes later Remus Lupin walked into the room, accompanied by the man who Harry knew to be the bartender at the Hog's Head, who took a seat at the head of the table. Lupin sat between Hagrid and McGonagall.

When every chair, save one, had been filled, the bartender stood up and cleared his throat, bringing unpleasant memories of a certain Defense against the Dark Arts teacher to Harry.

"I will now take attendance of all those invited to the reading of the will of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, to be read by Aberforth Cabra Chèvre Gabhar Koza Dumbledore. I will be returning shortly, after which the reading of the will shall commence." He strode out of the room.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other in astonishment.

"That man…" said Hermione tentatively, "He's related to Dumbledore?"

"Guess so," Ron replied, wide-eyed.

"It's the strangest thing, though," she mused.

"What is?" asked Harry, still in shock himself.

"All his middle names mean _goat_ in different languages."

Ron snickered, earning him a "Ronald!" from Hermione.

"Wait a moment…" said Harry slowly, "I think I remember Dumbledore telling me something once about his brother who was practicing inappropriate charms on goats…"

"Well, of course," said Luna from across Neville. "Everyone knows that goats are the companions of the great wizards of our time, in fact," she continued excitedly, blue eyes widening, "Their blood…"

She was cut off, however, as Aberforth Dumbledore returned, and cleared his throat.

"Ginny Weasley?" he asked.

"Here."

"Hermione Granger?"

"Here."

"Ron Weasley?"

"Here."

They went on as such until the man reached the last name on his list.

"Dudley Dursley?"

"W-what?" Harry gasped. Why on earth would Dumbledore have left something to his cousin, of all people? He doubted whether he would even bother to attend, not that Uncle Vernon would allow him to come in the first place.

The whole table, or at least those who knew who Dudley was, was in shock.

However, no one was more shocked than Harry was when Dudley walked into the room, followed by a very nervous-looking Aunt Petunia, who followed Dudley until he sat in the seat across from Luna and next to McGonagall, his fat bottom hanging over the sides of the chair.

Aberforth Dumbledore, still standing, peered at him from behind his reading spectacles. "Are you Dudley Dursley?" he asked.

Dudley stared at him fearfully for a full minute before finally answering him.

"Y-yes," He said shakily.

"The reading of the Last Will and Testament shall commence as soon as all those not listed exit the room."

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley obliged without complaint, but Aunt Petunia stared at him, her eyes wide in terror.

"N-no!" she protested, "I can't leave my Diddums with … with the likes of _you_!" Mrs. Weasley gently grasped her wrist and pulled her away out of the room, shrieking.

**Author's Note: Ah, yes. I know it was short, and I'm sorry I took so long. I had a difficult time writing this chapter, and I know 99 percent of you will think me crazy for the ending, but I have my reasons. You'll just have to wait and see what they are, but I promise it's not as terribly horrific as it sounds.**


	5. Raising a Spectacle

**RISING FROM THE ASHES**

_Chapter Five –_ _Raising a Spectacle_

"Now we shall commence," said Aberforth as if nothing had happened.

He lifted a veil behind him to reveal a portrait of Albus Dumbledore, his blue eyes twinkling just as they had when he was still alive.

"What the portrait is able to say is only what has already been written by Albus in his will," Aberforth explained, "It cannot think for itself, and it does not replace the wisdom of my brother in any way." He nodded at the portrait, sat down, and said curtly, "Begin."

"_I, Albus Dumbledore, hereby bestow Fawkes, my phoenix, upon Rubeus Hagrid…." _

Fawkes' silver cage appeared from thin air in front of Hagrid, who began to sob.

"Great man, Dumbledore," he choked out, "Leavin' me 'is phoenix. He always knew how much I loved tha' bird, he did. I'll take good care o' ye, I will," he promised Fawkes, who had risen from the ashes since Harry had last seen him, and was once again in his glorious adult form. However, he did not have the same air about him that he had prior to Dumbledore's death. Fawkes had his plumed head hung in sorrow.

"…_A quart of goat's blood, a sack of silver Mooncalf's droppings, powdered aconite, dragon liver, chopped daisy roots, and a pewter cauldron to Remus Lupin. I also request that he return to Hogwarts to fill the position of Defense against the Dark Arts professor…"_

The said items appeared at Lupin's feet in the pewter cauldron. Baffled, he stared at them.

"Why would Dumbledore leave him _that_?" Ron whispered to Harry, who shrugged, but Hermione clasped her hands over her mouth and gasped.

"Professor Lupin!" she exclaimed. All eyes turned on her, and she blushed slightly but continued on. "I – I remember reading somewhere that ancient legend said that those ingredients could _cure_ lycanthropy, but there are no recorded cases of it being successful…"

Lupin's eyes widened. "If Dumbledore seems to believe it is true," he said slowly, "Then it must be…" He stared into his hands wonderingly.

Aberforth coughed, and Lupin looked up.

"…_To Minerva McGonagall, I leave my gratitude for her assistance all these years in the running of Hogwarts, the best of wishes for her success in the position of Headmistress of Hogwarts…"_

Professor McGonagall wiped a tear from her eye, drawing a handkerchief from her pocket to blow her nose.

"…_I leave my own edition of Hogwarts, a History, which has been handed down through the Dumbledore family for generations since its original publication, with additional notes made by each owner to Hermione Granger…_"

Hermione's eyebrows shot up as the book, worn with age, appeared in her lap. She picked it up and caressed it lovingly, smiling softly.

"…_To Luna Lovegood, I leave my half-moon spectacles, for she has a unique perception of the word that they will help her to hone…"_

The glasses appeared on the bridge of Luna's nose, sliding down to its tip, and she peered serenely through them, gazing around the table calmly, pausing to analyze each person. Harry could feel her piercing gaze upon him, but did not look up to meet her eyes.

"…_To Ginevra Weasley, I leave two lightning bolt pendants that will act as communication devices between her and whoever she wishes to give the second one to…"_

Harry and Ginny glanced at each other briefly, Ginny's face turning crimson to match her brilliant red hair as the package fell in front of her.

"…_To Ronald Weasley, I leave a chess set that mirrors our current situation. In time, Mr. Weasley, you will learn how to use it, but it must be on your own. Miss Granger will be unable to assist you_ this _time…"_

As Ron's package materialized; everyone at the table, save Dudley and Luna, chuckled as his ears turned red, and Hermione's cheeks pink.

"…_I leave the very rare_ Leigheas Pian_ to Neville Longbottom, in observance of his developing botanical abilities…" _

Neville smiled proudly as the plant appeared in front of him. It had a very bizarre appearance. A thick green stalk branched off to several smaller stalks. These curled upwards and met a few inches above the center of the main stalk. They were connected by a bright red heart-shaped ball with black anthers sticking out from it. White petals surrounded the heart-shaped ball, each with a blue dot in its center. Coming from the middle of the ball was a long tube, about a foot in length that sloshed slightly as it swayed in its place.

"…_To Fred and George Weasley, I leave half of my gold. They may spend it however they choose, however I request that they spend a good sum of it on developing that superb joke shop of theirs. I leave my remaining gold and possessions to Aberforth Dumbledore, my brother. They may obtain the gold at Gringotts Wizarding Bank. My vault number is 673, ask for Ragnook. Instructions are written on the piece of parchment."_

"Yes!" Fred shouted, jumping up from his seat as the aforementioned piece of parchment appeared in front of them, "Thank you, Dumbledore!" He sat back down, and he and George exchanged pleased grins.

"…_I leave my pensive and the sword of Gryffindor to Harry Potter…"_

The sword and pensive materialized in front of Harry. He gingerly picked up the sword, turning the blade over in his hands.

"How am I supposed to carry this out?" he asked Ron in a whisper, motioning to the pensive. Ron simply shrugged his shoulders, still staring at his chess set.

Dudley squirmed in his seat, looking uncomfortable and very nervous. Harry was surprised he hadn't said or done anything to interfere with the reading of the will. He had, in fact, been surprisingly well-behaved.

"_To Dudley Dursley I leave the gift of knowledge. Use it well…"_

Dudley gasped as a folded piece of parchment. Hands shaking, he opened it and read silently, eyes darting side to side and, upon reaching the end of the parchment, widening in shock.

Dudley screamed a long, loud, terrible scream, and passed out

Aunt Petunia came bursting in.

"Dudders!" she whimpered, rushing to his side, and clutching his hand, "What did they do to you?" She grabbed the piece of parchment from his outstretched palm and scanned it with her eyes.

"Oh my..."

Aberforth Dumbledore stood up.

"I SAID THAT NO ONE WHOSE NAME IS NOT INCLUDED ON THE LIST OF INHERITORS WAS TO ENTER THIS ROOM DURING THE READING OF MY BROTHER'S WILL!" He shouted, marching over to where Aunt Petunia stood in shock.

She shrank away from him, parchment clutched to her chest.

Aberforth snatched it from her hands, and began to read aloud.

"_Dated April 6th._

_Dear Dudley Dursley,"_ he began.

"_I see it of great importance to inform you of a fact that has been hidden from you since birth. I take it you remember my visit to your home nearly one year ago? Do you remember my mentioning that your cousin, Harry, was lucky to have escaped the appalling damage that your parents had inflicted upon you? Did you ever wonder, my boy, just what that damage was?"_

Aunt Petunia began to sob, great fat tears running down her horse-like face in rivets.

"Hush!" Aberforth snarled at her, and continued.

"_You were raised with a hatred of the Wizarding race. Your father, Vernon Dursley, taught you that we were all freaks, who needed to be stamped out and put in mental hospitals. Your mother, Petunia Dursley, taught you that we were people to be afraid of. For ten years, you lived with a wizard under your roof and were not aware of it. However, you have had the knowledge of Harry Potter's magical abilities for five years now. You know that he attends a school for magic, Hogwarts. You know that he received this letter on his eleventh birthday, and has been attending the school ever since. What you are not aware of, however, is that you too should be attending this school as well."_

Harry gasped.

_Dudley?_ A _wizard?_

It was unthinkable. How could it be? His cousin, plain ordinary Dudley Dursley, was capable of doing magic?

"_However," _Aberforth continued calmly, "_Your fear and hatred of what you yourself were caused your subconscious to repress all of your magical abilities. This does not mean that you have lost your wizardry, simply that it is dormant and cannot be called upon except in a time of great urgency._

_You are welcome to attend Hogwarts school, should you so desire. Of course, you will be much older than the other first years, but compensations can be made._

_Dudley, we wizards are not ones to be afraid of. Although magic can be used for good and bad, Muggles such as your parents tend to be afraid of what they do not know more than the effects of spells and the like._

_Do not be afraid of something that can be used for great good. Be afraid of what you, yourself, have become. For sometimes it pays to trust in the unknown. And sometimes, it pays to take a deeper look into what you may not necessarily have a clear understanding of, no matter how much you think you do._

_Signed,_

_Albus Dumbledore."_

Aberforth rolled up the scroll, and announced

"The reading of the last will and testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore is complete. You are free to go." He then strode purposefully out of the room.

Harry, still in shock, heaved the pensive off of the desk, and clutched the sword at his side. Stunned, the other inheritors followed him with their possessions in tow.

"Oh," said Fred when they met back up with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, "Hang on, mum, dad. We've got to stop at Dumbledore's vault. He's – er – he's left us some gold, and we want to split it with you."

George nodded in agreement.

"No, boys," Mrs. Weasley insisted, "Dumbledore left it to you, we couldn't possibly…"

"Mum," Fred interrupted, "It's alright. It'll help pay for Bill's wedding, and you can get that kneazle you've always wanted."

"Well…" said Mrs. Weasley uncertainly, "I suppose…"

"He said to ask for Ragnook," George put in.

"Alright, let's go then," said Mr. Weasley, looking pleasantly surprised.

"Excuse me," he said, striding up to the front desk of Gringotts, "May we please speak with Ragnook?"

"Certainly," the goblin at the desk replied in a hoarse rasp, "Ragnook!" he called.

"Yes?" A grey-skinned goblin poked his head out from behind a stack of parchment.

"These people are requesting your assistance," the first goblin informed him.

Grumbling, the goblin called Ragnook set aside his quill and strode over to where the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione stood.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"We were told to see you," George told him.

"Ah…yes…" said Ragnook, taking the parchment from his hand, "Follow me."

He walked toward a door at the side of the building, and opened it.

"We shall be using a method of transportation other than cart for this particular vault," he said, smiling for the first time since their acquaintance.

Once everyone was past the door, he closed it behind them with a _click_.

Harry heard Ron gulp audibly beside him as they were thrown into pitch blackness.


	6. The Guardian of the Vault

**RISING FROM THE ASHES**

_Chapter Six – The Guardian of the Vault_

"Right this way," Ragnook said briskly. He struck a match with a soft _hiss_ and lit a candle, his wrinkled face looking waxy in its light. He turned to his right, facing a limestone wall with a small carving of a dragon in its upper corner, and began to chant in a language which Harry did not know.

"_Coimirceoir cara dúinn an fear boghta mé iarr ar tú go oscailte do doras do leabhair sin cé tháinig cad é atá tú a dhéanamh miré fiúntas le an fear anam cé peanné an fear seo gairm. Mé iarr ar tú go ceadaigh an fear seo gasra go onfais isteach i do rúnda, agus taiscéal do suaimhneach. Siad críochnóidh mé amárach glac cad é an saghas atá aige in ceartlán iad. Mé buíochas a ghabháil le duine tú,"_1 he recited.

A sound rather like the ringing of a gong pervaded throughout the room, resounding and echoing off the walls, which slowly began to crack. The cracks spread throughout the wall, forming a web-like pattern, until finally the entire wall collapsed at their feet. In front of them stood an ancient looking dragon. Ragnook blew the candle out immediately, plunging them into darkness. They could still, however, see the dragon's bright purple pupils staring at them through the darkness.

Hermione gasped, stepping back hastily, and Fred let out a low whistle.

"Cool," he whispered.

The dragon surveyed them majestically. It had dark, rough looking scales, with ridges down its back and a spiked tail.

"D'fhéadfadh sé teacht do tine dóigh geal,"2 said Ragnook solemnly. The dragon nodded at him, and snorted. A tiny spurt of flame flew out of its nostril, igniting the stick which Ragnook held aloft. They could see once again.

Ragnook motioned for them to step over the rubble, and they continued onwards. Harry looked back to see the wall behind them completely constructed, with no visible cracks in it.

They walked in silence for several minutes, until Ragnook finally announced their arrival at Dumbledore's vault.

He ran his long fingers along the door, and it slowly began to open.

"Wow…" breathed Mrs. Weasley.

_Wow, indeed_.

The vault was filled to the top with gold. Galleons lay in heaps on the stone floor, glimmering in the faint light of the dragon's fire.

"One hundred thousand galleons to the young Weasleys," said Ragnook gruffly, pulling a sack from the lining of his blue jacket and beginning to stuff it with the galleons. When he had finished, and the vault was empty, he handed it to George, who accepted it, knees buckling with its weight.

"It's sort of strange though, isn't it?" asked Ginny as they headed back up the passageway, "That all Dumbledore would have had in his vault was gold? I thought there'd be a bit more than just money in there."

"So did I," admitted Hermione, "It is rather odd. I guess Aberforth already removed it when he came to collect his gold."

Ginny shrugged. "Guess so."

"Alright," said Fred, "We'll take twenty five thousand of that. Ron and Ginny, you can each take one thousand. Charlie and Bill can have one thousand a piece as well. Mum, dad, you take the rest.

"A-are you quite sure, son?" asked Mr. Weasley tentatively.

"Yes, dad," said Fred firmly.

"But dear," Mrs. Weasley protested, "That's over seventy thousand galleons! What are we to do with seventy thousand galleons?"

"Well," said George, "Dad can put the money into researching Muggle stuff, and mum you can use it to pay for Bill's wedding, and maybe fix up the house a bit, buy yourself some new clothes, y'know?"

"Alright," said Mr. Weasley uncertainly, "We should deposit that in our vault, then. Excuse me, Ragnook, would you please accompany my wife and me to vault 242?"

"Certainly," said Ragnook, turning around and leading them in the opposite direction.

"You lot can find your way on your own, can't you?" Mrs. Weasley called over her shoulder.

"Well, let's go then," said George, and they continued on along the passage.

After a short period of time, they reached a split passageway.

"C'mon," said Ron, and he began to walk towards the right doorway.

"Ronald," said Hermione complacently, "You're going the wrong way…"

"I am not!" Ron retorted, "I think I remember which way we came from, Hermione!"

"Really?" she asked, "Then why is it you never remembered to do your homework?"

Ron opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Fred.

"ENOUGH, you two!" he shouted, clapping his hands over his ears, "I'm sick of your rows. They were amusing at first but now you're acting like mum and dad – and it's really starting to get on my nerves!

"Mine too," George said, crossing his arms and leaning against a statue of a giant sphinx, "Give it a rest, will you?"

"No!" Ron protested, turning to face Hermione, "Remember when Harry nearly forgot about our Potions essay? Who reminded him? I did! But no, you took all the credit!"

"Maybe that's because I practically _wrote_ it for him!" Hermione shouted.

"Oh, come off it!" Ron bellowed, "You're always trying to steal my thunder!"

His voice reverberated around the stone chamber.

_Steal…steal…steal…_

Behind George, the eyes of the sphinx lit up, glowing yellow in the dim light.

"Get off," it hissed. George did as he was told.

The sphinx yawned, and stood up, the stone transforming to flesh and the thick layer of dust to fur, until finally it closely resembled the sphinx which Harry had come across in the Triwizard maze in his fourth year.

"Planning to steal something, are you now?" it asked Hermione coyly. She shook her head frantically.

"N-no!" she objected, "It's just an expression. Stealing one's thunder means that–"

"I don't care what it means," said the sphinx softly. "But if none of you can answer my riddle, I will devour all of you, whether you be a thief or not. I will devour the thunder thief first, however."

"No!" The other five shouted at once.

The sphinx smiled slyly.

"Very well then. Do you want to save the girl, and yourselves? Answer my riddle correctly, and you shall pass unscathed. Are you ready?"

"Y-yes," said Hermione, her chin quivering.

"Don't worry, Hermione," said Ginny, "We'll be here to help you, if you need it."

The sphinx opened her mouth, and the six fell quiet as she began to speak.

"_I glimmer in the morning light_

_My coat is fair, my body bright_

_But when nighttime falls, what's left to gain?_

_My coat is dull, my body plain_

_I do, however, have a friend_

_Who's not so cruel as to pretend_

_The sin of man, the driving force_

_Of greed and need he is the source_

_If you mistake me for him, a poor fool you'd be named_

_Now answer my riddle if you don't wish to be shamed_

_What am I?_"

"Er…" said Harry, "Can we discuss the answer before we give it to you?"

"Yes," the sphinx replied, swishing her tufted tail.

The five turned to Hermione, who was looking quite apprehensive.

"Well," she said uncertainly, "I suppose the best way to go about this would be to break down the riddle one line at a time. Keep in mind, metaphors and personification are often used in riddles, and sometimes part of the answer is hidden in the question without our knowledge."

"Right, then," said Fred, _"I glimmer in the morning light_. So what glitters when it's light out?"

"Jewelry?" Ginny suggested.

"I don't really think that fits with the rest of the riddle, Ginny," Hermione said thoughtfully, and she began to pace, muttering to herself.

"You know," said Ron, "I reckon it's the second part of the riddle that's more important, because if whatever this is '_has a friend'_ it probably means they're similar, so if we can figure out what that friend is, we can guess the answer to the riddle."

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but closed it and said softly, "It's worth a try … Alright, so whatever this is has a friend who's '_not so cruel as to pretend.'_" She stopped pacing, tapping a finger on her jaw. "That must mean that the first thing _does_ pretend, does that make sense?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "It does. So its friend is real, and it is '_the sin of man_'. Er, but what's the sin of man?"

"Hate?" suggested George.

"Well, yes," said Hermione, "But it's like Ginny's answer – it only works for that line,"

"_Of greed and need he is the source,_" Ron said, with a slight smile on his face, "So what's the source of greed? Is that asking what causes greed?"

"It would seem that way, yes," Hermione said, running her fingers through her bushy hair.

Ron began to laugh.

"It seems ickle Ronniekins has gone off his rocker," Fred whispered to George, who grinned.

However, to Harry's amazement, Ron did not make to attack either of them. He simply stood there, laughing.

"Harry!" he choked, "Surely you know the answer? Don't you remember what happened in our fourth year? Don't you remember the Quidditch World Cup?"

"Of course I do," Harry replied, perplexed, "But what has Quidditch got to do with the answer to the riddle?"

Ron turned to face them, a huge smile stretching across his face.

"_I glimmer in the morning light, my coat is fair, my body bright_," he recited, "Makes you think of _gold_, doesn't it?"

"Yes but…" Hermione began, but was cut off by Ron, who held out his hand.

"Hear me out, alright?" he requested.

"_But when nighttime falls, what's left to gain? My coat is dull, my body plain," _Well, it can't be gold then, can it? Because gold still glimmers when it's dark. The riddle says that whatever this is has a friend who doesn't pretend to be something it's not. What makes people greedy? What does everyone need? _Gold_!" he exclaimed. "So the answer to the second part of the riddle is gold. So if we go back to the first part, with that in mind, it would seem that the first thing is similar to, yet not, _gold_. And if we mistake this for gold, we'd be _poor_ fools. Get it, like we'd think we were rich but weren't?" He turned to face Harry.

"Sort of like that Leprechaun gold we got during the Quidditch World Cup, isn't it, mate?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Harry slowly. It all made sense, it all fit, "Yeah, it is,"

Hermione gasped, and they all turned to look at her. "In the Muggle word," she said, "There's a substance called pyrite, better known as _fool's gold!_ It fits with the word play. We'd be poor because we'd think we had gold, and we'd be fools because we would have mistaken the pyrite for the actual gold!"

The sphinx swished her tail. "Is that your answer?" she asked.

"No!" Hermione said, "I want to make absolutely sure that –"

"Yes," Ron interrupted. "The answer is fool's gold."

They waited with baited breath as the sphinx sat silent. A few seconds later, she jumped up, as if to pounce, but Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as she simply moved aside.

"You have answered my riddle correctly," she told them, "And by the way," she said, addressing Hermione, "The boy was correct. It _is_ the right door through which you want to head.

"Oh," said Hermione, "Well, er, good job, Ron!" She said in a false cheery voice, and headed through the door on the right, head held high.

"What'd I do?" asked Ron, baffled.

"You proved her wrong, little bro," George said, and clapped him on the back, following Hermione through the door. Harry followed, grinning.

…

They arrived at the stone wall from which the dragon had come, at the same time as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Ragnook simply stroked the wall and it crumpled to the floor again, allowing them to pass through. The dragon did not reappear.

"Okay, you lot," said Mr. Weasley, "Anyone up for an ice cream?" She pointed to the shop which Florean Fortescue used to be the proprietor of. However, it now read 'Delilah's Delicious Daytime Delights' and was painted a putrid shade of pink as opposed to the former light blue it had been when Fortescue owned it.

"No, thanks," said Harry, Fred, George, and Ron simultaneously.

"Oh, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione hurriedly, "I'd really like to go to the bookshop, and I know Harry, Ron, and Ginny would as well, isn't that right?" she asked, giving them a pointed look.

"Yeah, we do," said Harry quickly, catching on.

"What are you on about, mate?" asked Ron, "I don't want to go to the ruddy – OW!" he exclaimed as Ginny punched him in the arm.

"We'll be back by 1:00," she promised, and the four of them walked away quickly.

"That was close," panted Harry when they had arrived at Flourish and Blotts.

"Yes, it was, that place reminded me of Umbridge," said Hermione with a shudder, "Thank goodness we're at the best shop in Diagon Alley now!" She sighed with relief, and hurried off in search of a new read.

"Really?" Ron said sarcastically once she had left, "Doesn't look like this place sells broomsticks to me,"

Harry chuckled, and said, "I'm going to go see if they've got any books on Defense. See you later, mate,"

"Yeah, see you," Ron said, heading in the opposite direction for a series of shelves with the label of 'Books for Blokes'

…

"Excuse me," said Harry, tapping a tall wizard with dark hair on the shoulder.

"Yes, excuse _you_," said the bookseller without turning around, "I'm rather busy at the moment, you'll have to find someone else to — Oh…it's _you_…" he said sheepishly, "The famous Harry Potter, it is quite an honor to meet –"

"I'm looking for books on Defense Against the Dark Arts," Harry interrupted, sick of being treated differently because of his scar.

"Yes, right away Mr. Potter," said the attendant.

Harry followed him past shelves of shelves of books, until they finally reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts section.

"Looking for anything in particular, Mr. Potter?" asked the man eagerly.

"_Yes,_ as a matter of fact, I _am_," said Harry sarcastically, "Something that will make me and Voldemort the best of friends. You know, maybe a book of spells for turning enemies into tea cozies? Something along that line?"

The assistant flinched at the sound of Voldemort's name, and hurried away, flustered.

Harry shrugged, and pulled the first book off the shelf that caught his eye.

_Moste Potente Potions_

_Now, what's that doing there?_ Harry wondered, and shrugged, picking it up at flipping through its pages with mild curiosity.

_I've got nothing better to do…_

He came upon a page titled 'Spiritus Timere3' and began to read aloud.

"Often referred to as a liquid dementor," he whispered to himself, "When brewed correctly this potion should give off a faint greenish glow. The potion causes its victim to relieve their worst memories, experience their greatest fears as though they were reality. If its effects are not counter-acted, it will reduce them to a state of utmost despair and hysteria…"

Harry stopped reading, mouth agape.

Could this be what Dumbledore had drunk, that night in the cave?

His train of thought was interrupted by Hermione.

"I've found a few new books!" she informed him excitedly from behind a tower of tomes.

"A _few_, Hermione?" Harry asked incredulously, setting _Moste Potente Potions_ aside, "What do you consider a fair amount, then, fifty?"

"Very funny," she snapped, "Seen Ron anywhere?"

"No," said Harry.

"What've you got there?" she asked, pointing to the book next to him.

"Nothing," said Harry quickly, setting it back on the shelf.

"Well, I'm off to find Ron," Hermione said, "Meet you at the front desk in, say, five minutes?"

"Alright," said Harry. He waited until she was out of sight, and then removed the book from the shelf, tucking it under his cloak. He hurried over to the front desk and quietly exchanged his ten galleons for it. He had just wrapped it in plain parchment and tied it together with a spare piece of twine when Hermione approached with Ron and Ginny in tow. Ron had a noticeable book-shaped bulge underneath his cloak as well.

"Ready?" asked Hermione.

They left the shop together, pausing briefly in front of Quality Quidditch Supplies so that Harry, Ron and Ginny could admire a new pair of gloves that allowed for a better grip on the broom handle. They would have gone inside, but Hermione was already tutting impatiently, and reminding them they were due to meet Mrs. Weasley in five minute's time.

"Alright, alright!" Ron said exasperatedly, turning away from the window to face an irritated Hermione, "We're coming, keep your hair on."

They arrived at the meeting spot at exactly 1:00, and headed back to the Burrow for further wedding preparations. And, in Harry's case, to further examine his new purchase.

**This is written is Gaelic, as I know someone who is Irish and was kind enough to translate for me. It roughly translates to: "Guardian of the vault I ask you to open your doors for those who have been deemed worthy by the soul who penned this summons. I ask you to allow this group to delve into your secrets, and explore your contents. They will take only what is rightfully theirs. I thank you." **

**2 "May your fire always burn bright" **

**3 Latin for 'Essence of Fear'. At least, according to my friend. If she is wrong, please do not hesitate to tell me in a review so I can change it! Thanks!**


	7. The Wedding

**RISING FROM THE ASHES**

_Chapter Seven – The Wedding_

The rays of sunlight playing across Harry's face were what caused him to awake the morning of Bill and Fleur's wedding. He sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes and putting his glasses on. Looking up, he saw Ron sitting in a chair near the door, intently hunched over a book. Harry, never having seen Ron look at a book in such a way, knew something was up.

"Hey mate," he said casually. Ron jumped, closing the book and covering its cover with his hand. "What are you reading?"

"N-nothing," Ron stammered, his ears reddening, "Just, er, um, doing some research." Seeing Harry's disbelieving expression, he gave in.

"Alright, alright," he grumbled, "You're going to find out sooner or later, I guess," He held the book he had been reading.

"_How to Win Your Witch?" _Harry read incredulously, "Ron," he said slowly, "You _do_ know Fleur is about to be married, _today_, in fact? To your brother?"

"It's not for Fleur," said Ron impatiently, his face flushing to match his ears.

"For who, then?" Harry asked, nonplussed.

Ron murmured a name very quietly.

"Sorry, didn't catch that," Harry said.

Ron said the name again, more loudly.

"Still can't hear you," Harry told him.

"Forget it," said Ron, "I – I just can't tell you, I'm sorry. Er, if things go well today, I'll tell you – that's a promise."

"It's alright, you don't have to tell me," Harry assured him, having a pretty good idea who Ron was referring to anyway.

"So," he asked, changing the subject, "What's a wizarding wedding like?"

Ron shrugged. "Dunno," he admitted, "Never been to one."

"And you won't if we don't hurry up and get ready," Harry said, glancing at a clock on the dresser, "The wedding starts in two hours!"

Ron groaned, but nonetheless set his book aside and followed Harry downstairs to obtain their dress robes from Mrs. Weasley.

They found her seated at the dinning room table, sipping a cup of tea and reading _Witch Weekly_.

"Oh, hello, boys," she said pleasantly. "I was just about to come up and wake you. Hermione's decorating the garden, and the preparations have been made. Fleur and her family should be arriving any minute now," she sniffed, and all of a sudden tears began to pour down her face.

"Mrs. Weasley!" Harry exclaimed, alarmed.

"I'm sorry, d-dear," she sniffed, "It's just that – well Bill's getting married!"

"Really?" Ron muttered, "Hadn't noticed." Harry nudged him in the ribs with his elbow.

Mrs. Weasley paused to blow her nose, and continued. "It seems like only yesterday he got his acceptance to Hogwarts, and now he's grown up, and will probably have some kids in a few years, and me – a grandparent!"

Harry and Ron looked at each other, not quite sure what to say. Luckily, they were spared answering by Hermione, who had entered the house through the back door.

"Hello," she beamed at them, "I've just finished decorating, and everything looks spectacular!"

"Oh, hello Hermione," said Mrs. Weasley. "I think you should start getting ready now, go on to Ginny's room, she'll help you."

"Okay," Hermione said, starting to head up the stairs.

"Make sure she brushes her hair!" Mrs. Weasley called up to her, "It's so long and beautiful when it's brushed, I can't stand to see it tangled!"

She turned to Harry and Ron. "You two," she said. "Mind that you bathe, comb your hair, and change into these dress robes." She dumped them into their arms, and pushed them into the direction of the staircase as well.

"I hope she got lace free ones this time," Ron grumbled as they slung the robes over their shoulders and walked upstairs, "Here," he said, "You can use Percy's bathroom."

"Thanks," said Harry, turning right at the second floor.

He cracked open the door and coughed as the thin layer of dust billowed about the room. Rubbing his eyes furiously, he dumped the robes on Percy's bed, and opened the door to the bathroom, removing his robes and stepping into the shower.

He picked up the shampoo, labeled _Prefect's Perfect Hair_. Shaking his head in disgust, he began to lather, massaging his thick black hair.

When Harry had finished, he stepped out and wrapped a towel around himself and returned to the bedroom. He picked up his dress robes, which were green like the ones he had worn to the Yule Ball in his fourth year, yet a slightly different style. He got dressed, nearly tripping over a book at the foot of the bed (_Power Hungry? Try a Career with the Ministry), _and knocking it aside. Bending down to pick it up, he noticed a thin sheet of parchment sticking out from it. Intrigued, Harry slid it out from between the pages, and unfolded it.

"Boys," he heard Mrs. Weasley call from downstairs, "Hurry up, the wedding starts in an hour and Fleur's already here!"

Giving the parchment a final glance, Harry pocketed it to read another time. He gave his damp hair a quick brush, trying in vain to make it lie flat, and headed downstairs.

Mrs. Weasley stood with Fleur, straightening the tiara that sat atop her silvery-blonde hair. "Oh good, Harry, you're ready," she said distractedly.

"Where eez Bill?" Fleur asked nervously, flattening the skirt of her wedding dress, "I do not want 'im seeing me before zee wedding 'as started!"

"Don't worry," Mrs. Weasley said, giving the tiara one final poke and seemingly deciding it was evenly placed, "He's upstairs with Charlie, who has been given strict instructions to not let him out until given the okay,"

"Zat makes me feel much better," Fleur said, smiling gratefully, "Allo, Harry," she greeted him, climbing down from the stool on which she had been standing.

"Hello, Fleur," Harry responded, taking a seat in an armchair below Mrs. Weasley's special clock. All of the hands on it were pointing to _Mortal Peril_, with the exception of Percy's. Pushing aside this oddity, Harry turned to Mrs. Weasley and asked, "Are Ron and Hermione finished yet?"

"No, they aren't," said Mrs. Weasley, "Arthur, Fred, George, and Charlie are upstairs with Bill, Fleur's family is in the backyard, Ginny's in her room with Hermione, and Ron's in his room as well."

She glanced at the clock and gave a little shriek. "It's almost 12:00! The wedding starts in ten minutes! Fleur, dear, go on into that side room over there so that we can get Bill in here without him seeing you,"

Fleur complied, picking up the skirt of her gown and tossing her long hair over her shoulder.

Shortly after, Ron came down the stairs, clad in black robes with maroon trim, and took a seat next to Harry. He was followed by Mr. Weasley, Bill, Fred, George, and Charlie.

"Don't you all look _handsome_," Mrs. Weasley breathed, stroking Bill's cheek, "It seems like only yesterday you were eleven years old and thought girls were infested with glumbumbles, and look at you now, about to be married! She embraced him, crying into his shoulder.

"Mum!" Bill protested, gently prying her loose, "Please, calm down. I'm nervous enough as it is!" He walked outside, closing the wooden door behind him.

Mrs. Weasley wiped away a tear and gave the clock another anxious glance.

"Five more minutes," she fussed, "Where are those girls?"

"We're finished!" Ginny called down, racing down the staircase and nearly colliding into her mother.

Harry's breath caught in his throat. She looked amazing, with her long red hair cascading to her waist and her brown eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Ginevra Weasley!" Mrs. Weasley scolded, "What took you so long?"

"Sorry, mum," she apologized, "I had to do Hermione's hair and it took _forever_, she's just got so much of it…no offense, Hermione," she added.

"None taken," Hermione replied, running her fingers nervously through said hair.

"Alright," Mrs. Weasley said, frantically waving her hands and pushing the lot of them towards the back door, "It's time. You lot, except for Ginny, go fill the first two rows and Ginny find Gabrielle so you two can walk behind Fleur and hold her skirt. Fleur, you can come out now!" she said this all in one hastened breath, and ran ahead of them to sit in front.

Fleur did as she was told, and the rest of them followed her outside. She stood in the shadows, out of sight.

Hermione had been right, the garden looked spectacular. Glittering silver balls hung from the bushes, and between two laurel trees sat two red velvet chairs sheltered by a silk canopy.

There had to be at least two hundred people present, all sitting in white chairs which formed a humongous circle in ten rows. Surrounding this circle of chairs was another circle, formed from rocks in varying sizes. Four candles rested aflame at the north, south, east, and west ends of the circle, and an altar was positioned in the circle's center, on top of which sat a knife, a chalice, a small silver box, and a shovel. A broom carved from birch wood lay beside it. Bill stood some twenty feet away from the red velvet chairs, anxiously tapping his foot.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione hurriedly found seats with the twins,

The attendants watched in absolute awed silence as Fleur stepped forth, arm in arm with her father, a rather average looking man with her same silvery hair. Ginny and Gabrielle followed behind her, grasping the end of her skirt.

He lifted her hand from his own, and placed it in Bill's. He said in a loud, clear, heavily accented voice, "I give my daughter to 'er soon to be 'usband."

Gabrielle and Ginny turned around, and marched back to their seats as Bill led Fleur to the canopied area. They sat beside each other, still arm in arm.

A wizened old man whose name Harry did not know stood, stepped out side of the circle, and conjured a gong. He rang it three times, and announced in raspy voice "Let the ceremony commence!"

A great cheer went up as Bill and Fleur stood, walking towards the circle, and Hermione turned to Harry and whispered, "That's the enkêlaïde, he performs the marriage ceremony." Harry nodded to show he understood.

Bill and Fleur stopped at the end which Harry knew to be the east, walking once around until they reached their original spot once again, then stepping inside the circle and standing in front of the altar.

The man stood beside them, and began to speak once more.

"Dearly beloved," he said, "We are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy matrimony."

The crowd cheered once more, and he continued.

"Does anyone present object to the marriage of this man and this woman?"

Nobody protested, and after a few more moments of silence, he spoke again.

"Bill Weasley, do you take Fleur Delacour to be your wedded wife, to live together in marriage?

"I do," Bill said nervously, running a hand through his long red hair.

"Do you promise to love, comfort, honor, and keep her for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health? And forsaking all others, be faithful only to her so long as you both shall live?"

"I do," Bill repeated firmly.

"And do you, Fleur Delacour take Bill Weasley to be your wedded husband, to live together in marriage?"

"_Oui,_ I do." Fleur said, flashing a smile.

"Do you promise to love, comfort, honor, and keep him for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health? And forsaking all others, be faithful only to him so long as you both shall live?"

"I do," she said again.

The enkêlaïde handed Bill a golden goblet encrusted with rubies.

"Drink," he commanded, and Bill did as he was told, taking a gulp of water and then handing it to Fleur, who took a much more dignified sip, and then held it up for Bill to drink from once more. He took another drink, and then held it out for Fleur to do the same.

"Face each other," instructed the man, "And Miss Delacour, please place your right hand in Mr. Weasley's. They did so.

Seconds later, a dazzling red light shot up from between them. It wrapped around each of their hands, chaining them together and entwining their fingers. It looped around once more, and finally tied itself in a bow, still gleaming in the afternoon sunlight.

"By the power vested in ancient magic that we cannot yet comprehend, your souls have been joined together by your love," recited the enkêlaïde. He picked the knife off of the altar and handed it to Fleur.

"Cut a lock of his hair and place it in this box," he said, indicating the silver box.

She held the knife diagonally in one hand, grasping a lock of Bill's hair with the other, and sliced. The hair drifted to rest inside the box. Bill took the knife and did the same, Fleur's silvery hair falling on top of his bright red lock.

Once Bill had placed the lid gently over the box, the man addressed the two of them.

"Be understanding and patient, each with the other. Be free in the giving of affection and warmth. Be sensuous with one another. Have no fear and let not the ways of the unenlightened give you unease, for the magic in the spell that binds your hands and your soul is with you now and always, even after all visible traces disappear. Do you understand?"

"We do," Bill and Fleur said in unison.

The red spell that had intertwined their hands began to fade, leaving behind a ring on each of their hands.

"Will each and everyone of you here today do your part to ensure that this couple's marriage is happy, healthy, and long-lasting?" asked the enkêlaïde.

"We will," said everyone together, and in Hermione's case, with tears in her eyes.

The crowd cheered for the third time afternoon, and began to chant (led by Fred and George) "Kiss the bride! Kiss the bride! Kiss the bride!"

Bill did not disappoint them. He swung Fleur around, placed a hand on her waist, and kissed her deeply. They broke apart a few moments later, smiling happily. Bill then picked up the silver box and the trowel, and began to dig a hole at the center of the circle. When it was reasonably deep, he handed the silver box to Fleur, who placed it in the hole and smoothed a pile of dirt over it.

The enkêlaïde picked up the broom which had been lying against the altar, and placed it in front of the pair of them, then backed away and out of the circle, picking up the altar and carrying it with him.

Fleur and Bill joined hands, and in one fluid motion leapt over the broomstick.

"Very well then. I now present to you Mr. and Mrs. Weasley!" announced the enkêlaïde. He then rang the bell which had signaled the start of the ceremony three more times, and the attendants rose as one.

On the other side of the garden were groups of tables practically overflowing with food, and they began heading in that general direction.

"Mum said there'd be place cards to tell us where to sit," Ron informed Harry, Ginny, and Hermione, leading them towards a square table off to the side and in front of a stage, "Harry, looks like you're here," he said, indicating the seat closest to them, "Ginny, you're across from him, Hermione you're next to Ginny and I'm across from you."

They all took their respective seats, setting aside the place cards to make room for their plates. Ron, not unexpectedly, began to load his with everything in sight.

Once everyone had finished eating, a woman who had to be Fleur's mother got up on the stage and held her wand to her throat, muttering "_Sonorous"_.

"Bonjour, tout le monde," she said, "Merci beaucoup pour –_"_

"_Hermione,_" Ron hissed, "Care to translate?"

"Well," she said uncertainly, "My French isn't _perfect_, but I'll give it a try…"

She furrowed her brow in concentration.

"Alright, she's saying something about dancing …"

"What about it?" asked Ron, turning slightly pale.

"She says that according to French customs, all the boys and men must ask the girl or woman sitting across from them to dance." Hermione replied, flushing slightly, and determinedly staring at the floor.

Harry glanced nervously at Ginny, and looked quickly away.

As Mrs. Delacour climbed off the stage, the band struck up its first chord.

"So, er, Hermione," said Ron nervously, "I – I guess that means, I – er – well," he stuttered, "W-would you, er, like to dance?"

"I'd love to," Hermione smiled. Ron broke out into a huge grin, and then nudged Harry in the ribs, giving a slight nod toward Ginny, who was looking at him expectantly.

"Oh, er, Ginny, would you like to dance with me?" Harry asked, heart pounding in his chest.

"Of course," she said softly, staring at him. She stood up to head over to the dance floor, followed by Ron, who was looking positively giddy. The pair of them turned around, waiting for Harry and Hermione to join them.

"Just a moment," Harry promised, and they turned away.

"Hermione," he said in an undertone, a knowing grin on his face.

"What?" she asked sharply, not meeting his eyes.

"Mrs. Delacour didn't _really_ say for us to ask the person across from us to dance, did she?"

"No," said Hermione, turning pink, "She didn't."

Harry chuckled, and Hermione glared at him.

"Oh, come off it, Harry!" she said embarrassedly, and then in a quieter voice, "It's not like he was going to pluck up the courage to ask me without prompting, was he?"

Shaking his head and trying to repress his laughter, Harry went over to Ginny, holding out his arm for her to take.

They waltzed around the dance area, Ginny looking up at him, brown eyes sparkling and lips curled in a contented smile. It was taking every ounce of self-restraint Harry had to keep things purely platonic, and not kiss her.

Green eyes met brown, and they exchanged their thoughts in silence, gazing at each other.

Off on the side, Hagrid blew his nose with a loud honk.

"Don't they look happy, Minerva?" he asked Professor McGonagall.

"They look, Hagrid," she replied, "Like Lily and James."


	8. Percy's Return

**RISING FROM THE ASHES**

**Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to weasleybabe24 for reviewing every single chapter of this story. Thank you! Here's the next chapter, I'm sorry it took three weeks!**

_Chapter Eight – Percy's Return_

A few songs later, Harry and Ginny decided to sit down and take a break. They sat and watched as couples danced.

"Harry!" Ginny whispered.

"What?" he asked.

"Look at Ron and Hermione!"

He turned to see Ron and Hermione dancing to a slow song, Hermione's head on his shoulder. Harry smiled; glad to see his friends happy.

The music stopped, but they stayed where they were. Ron took hold of Hermione's hand, took a deep breath, and began to say something which Harry couldn't make out.

"I want to hear what they're saying, follow me!" Ginny said, grabbing Harry by the hand and pulling him behind a nearby bush.

"…wanted to tell you something," he continued, nervously running his fingers through his flaming red hair.

Hermione smiled expectantly, a slight blush creeping across her face.

"Yes?" she asked after several moments of silence.

"Hermione," Ron blurted, taking her hand. "I…"

He was cut off, however, by a new arrival to the conversation.

"Herm-own-ninny," said a deep voice, "It has been much too long."

Viktor Krum stepped forward, and took her hand.

"Oh no…" Ginny breathed, "That _idiot_."

Harry's stomach sank. This could not be good.

"Victor!" Hermione gasped, and dropped Ron's hands. She ran over to where he stood, and embraced him.

Ron scowled, eyes narrowing.

"Oh, why hello, _Vicky_," he spat, glaring contemptuously at him.

Hermione gave him a reproving glance, and Krum simply looked confused.

"What are you doing here?" asked Hermione, beaming.

"Fleur invited me to her wedding," he replied. Although his English was broken, it had greatly improved since Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts.

"It's so good to see you!" Hermione gushed.

"It is good to see you too, Herm-own-ninny. You look very nice."

"Thank you!" she exclaimed. "What have you been up to?"

Ron's shoulders slumped, and he shook his head in disgust. He slunk away, muttering things under his breath such as, "Don't know why I thought…never stood a chance…bloody Krum…"

"Should we follow him?" Ginny asked Harry. He shrugged.

"Oh, come on," she said in disgust, and dragged him away.

They found him by the tables, sitting with his chin resting on the palm of his hand. He glowered at the chatting pair.

"Hi, Ron," said Ginny carefully.

He looked up at them with anger in his eyes.

"What do you want?" he sneered.

"Excuse me?" Ginny asked angrily. "We were only trying to help you!"

"I don't need your help," he responded rudely.

"I think you do! Ron, it's obvious you like Hermione. You have for quite some time. You've been an absolute git to her since the day you two met!"

"_What_?" he spluttered. "I—I don't like Hermione!"

Ginny stared at him defiantly. "Everyone knows, Ron," she said in an agitated tone, "and we all think it's high time you did something about it.

Ron's resolve seemed to crumble at that moment.

"I tried," he said miserably, "I was about to – to tell her everything. But then…"

"But then Krum showed up." Ginny finished for him. "We know, Ron. We know."

"What does she see in him?" he asked angrily. Neither Harry nor Ginny answered. He seemed to be asking himself more than them. "What did she see in McLaggan?"

"Well, what did you see in Lavender Brown?" Ginny countered. "Or Fleur?"

"I…"

"That's what I thought. Listen, Ron, you great prick. She doesn't see anything in them. Maybe Krum was a crush, but she doesn't love him."

"Well, who does she love then?" he demanded.

"Why don't you go tell her what you were about to say?"

"But Krum!"

"I don't care!" Ginny seethed.

"Ron," Harry said, "just, er, ask her, will you?"

"Yeah, but if she loves some other bloke..."

"JUST GO!" Harry and Ginny shouted in unison, both of their patiences worn thin.

"Alright, alright," Ron said dubiously, "I'm blaming you two if I get shot down, though."

"You won't blame us," Ginny called after him, "you'll thank us."

They watched from afar as Ron strode up to Hermione and Krum. The pair stopped their conversation when he came. Ron made some sort of gesture to Krum, who shrugged and walked away.

Harry watched as Ron's face grew steadily redder with his pathetic attempts at explanation. He grinned sheepishly at Hermione.

"This is it…" Ginny breathed, clutching Harry's arm. He gulped, and felt the place where her hand grasped his forearm prickle.

"Ah, young love," said Fred, joining the pair of them and gesturing at Ron and Hermione.

Ginny grinned. "We're just waiting for her reaction."

Harry smiled uncertainly. It had become obvious to him how his two best friends felt about each other, but he was not quite sure how he felt about them as a pair.

Hermione stepped closer to Ron, who shifted uneasily. By now, Harry, Ginny, Fred, and George had been joined by Bill, Charlie, and Fleur.

Unaware that they had an audience, Hermione leaned close to Ron and kissed him square on the mouth. When they broke apart minutes later, it was to cheers and applause from Harry and the Weasleys.

Harry and Ginny walked over to congratulate them, and Fred and George followed in their wake, most likely to torment the new couple in everyway possible.

"Congratulations mate," said Harry, clapping Ron on the back, "but could you not do that around me? I think I've been scarred for life."

"You already _were_ scarred for life," Ron pointed out, his arm around Hermione's waist.

Harry stared at him incomprehensively for a moment, and then burst out laughing.

"Nice one, little bro," said Fred from behind. George nodded in agreement.

"Well," said Ron, "are the two of you going to take the mickey out of us?"

The twins exchanged mischievous glances.

"We will," said Fred finally.

"Just not yet," George smirked. They left.

"Great," Ron groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Prats…"

The four of them stood together conversing until they were interrupted by Mrs. Weasley, and with her was Percy.

"You," Ron snarled, "what are you doing here?"

"Be nice…" his mother warned him.

Ron turned away in disgust.

"I've come to congratulate Bill and Flower," Percy said forcedly, "and to collect a few things I … er … left behind."

"It's _Fleur_," Ginny informed him, "and what kind of things?"

"Just some books," Percy said evasively, "I'll be in my room, mother."

"Okay, Percy, dear," Mrs. Weasley beamed at him as he walked away. Once he was out of earshot, Ron and Ginny immediately began protesting.

"Why are you acting like nothing's changed?" Ron demanded.

"Oh, Ron," Mrs. Weasley sighed, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, "You'll understand when you're a parent. Which better not be any time soon," she added, looking between Ron and Hermione, who both turned bright red.

Harry choked back a snicker.

Ron and Hermione were saved further embarrassment by Percy, who came bounding toward them.

"Which one of you took it?" he snarled.

"Took what?" Ron asked shortly.

"We haven't touched any of your stuff, Percy." Ginny said coolly.

"Something of importance is missing," said Percy, "and I want to know which one of you has nicked it."

"None of us has nicked anything of yours," Hermione said.

Percy glared at them. "Mother, I think I'd best be off now." He left without another word to anyone.

"What was that all about?" Ginny asked, perplexed.

"No idea," said Ron.

Harry, however, thought he had some indication as to what it was about, and put his hand deep into the pocket of his robes to grasp the letter which he had discovered.


	9. Never Turning Back

**RISING FROM THE ASHES**

_Chapter Nine – Never Turning Back_

Overall, the wedding had been a huge success. Harry and Ginny shared several more dances, until finally calling it quits for the night. When the first stars had begun to appear in the sky, Fleur got up on stage and called for everyone's attention.

…

"Attention, please," she called, clapping her hands. The dancing couples reluctantly let go of each other and looked at her.

Fleur smiled. "Thank you. As zee tradition says, I must throw a bouquet of flowers into zee crowd. 'Oever catches it might just be zee next bride." she winked, and stepped back, tossing her bouquet into the air. All of the girls rushed forward to catch it, but it was Hermione's arms that the bouquet landed it. She glanced at Ron, a shy smile on her face. Ron turned pale and gulped, causing Harry to snigger.

He could not, however, have fully enjoyed the wedding with the knowledge that he, Ron, and Hermione would be leaving the Burrow – possibly forever – in just five hour's time.

…

Harry lay in bed, Ron's snores pervading throughout the room. Groaning, Harry checked the clock to see that they would be leaving in one hour. He rolled out of bed, rubbing his sleep-deprived eyes, and started packing, hap-hazardly shoving food he had nicked from the wedding buffet, spell books, clothes, and personal items such as letter and photos into his trunk. By the time he had finished, it was time to wake Ron, whose belongings he had already taken the liberty of packing, and Hermione.

"Ron," he whispered, kicking his mattress, "wake up."

Ron simply rolled over and ignored him, continuing to snore.

"Ugh, you lazy git," Harry said disgustedly, "maybe you'll respond to Hermione." He gave Ron's bed another kick for good measure, and crept into the hallway. He cautiously made his way down to the room which Hermione and Ginny were sharing, and knocked softly.

"Come in," Hermione called, and Harry, some what surprised she was awake at 3 a.m., obliged.

He found her sitting in an armchair, pouring over a large, thick book titled Detecting Dark Magic.

"Oh, hello, Harry," she said brightly. Harry stared at her.

"How did y—"

"I figured you would want to sneak out after the wedding," she explained, closing her book, "but why didn't you tell me ahead of time?"

"I didn't want to risk anyone overhearing," he answered.

"Is Ron up yet?" asked Hermione, standing up, pulling her trunk out from under her bed, and stuffing the book inside.

"No," said Harry, his eyes wandering to Ginny's sleeping form. Her red hair was splayed out across the pillow, and her lips were curled in a peaceful smile. "I need your help waking him."

"Oh, that should be fun," Hermione laughed, and left the room.

Harry crept to Ginny's bedside, and kissed her gently on the forehead.

"Goodbye," he whispered, and followed Hermione down the hall, back up the staircase, and into his and Ron's room.

"Ron!" Hermione hissed, "Wake up!"

No reply.

Hermione glanced at Harry. "How do you get him up in the mornings?"

Harry shrugged. "I dump cold water on him, but we can't risk him yelling. Not today."

Hermione sighed, and sat on the edge of the bed. She leaned over to Ron, and snogged him.

Ron's eyes shot open.

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, staring at her.

"We're leaving now," she said, "get dressed and meet us downstairs."

Ron, his cobalt eyes still wide, did as he was told.

…

"Where are we going first?" Ron asked, tucking his trunk in his pocket. Hermione had done them the favor of shrinking their belongings so that they wouldn't have to drag them along as they traveled.

"Godric's Hollow," said Harry immediately, "I—I've just got this…this _feeling_ we need to start there."

"Alright, sounds good to me," said Hermione, nodding her head approvingly, "but before we do anything like looking for Horcruxes, or researching R.A.B, we need to strategize. It will save us a lot of time and a lot of effort; we just should stop and think things through, okay? No sudden, rash, decisions?" She stopped walking and looked at them expectantly.

"Okay," Ron and Harry muttered.

"So how are we getting there?" Ron asked Harry. Fortunately, Harry, Ron and Hermione had all passed their apparition tests prior to their departure, which would make travel significantly easier, but since none of them knew what Godric's Hollow looked like, they could not properly visualize their _destination._

"We're going to fly, he said, pulling out the brooms he had hidden behind a bush. He handed Ron his Cleansweep 11 and kept his Firebolt. "Hermione, you can share with one of us," he said.

"Yes, Harry, but do you even know where Godric's Hollow is?" Hermione asked skeptically.

"No," he admitted, and Hermione gave an exasperated sigh, "but I bought an atlas awhile back that shows all the locations in Britain – Wizarding and Muggle."

"Okay," she said, "let's take a look."

They sat in the shadows of the trees outside the Burrow as Harry dug through his traveling bag.

"Found it," he announced, flipping to the index. "Godric's Hollow…Godric's Hollow…where is it? Aha!" He had found it.

"Hey!" Ron exclaimed, peering over his shoulder. "It's not too far from here!"

"It should be about an hour's flight," Harry estimated, "we'll arrive at around 5:00 a.m., then we should lay low until around 11:00. At 11:00…well, we'll do whatever it is we have to do," he shrugged, and mounted his broom, turning to face Ron and Hermione.

"Last chance to turn back," he warned them.

"We're never turning back, Harry," said Hermione.

"We'll be with you 'til the end, mate," Ron assured him.

Harry smiled gratefully. He waited as Ron helped Hermione onto his Cleansweep. She clutched Ron's waist, muttering, "Oh, I don't like flying," over and over again.

Harry kicked off, reveling in the feeling he got as the wind rushed through his hair. He was back in the sky, where he belonged.

As they flew away from the Burrow, neither Harry, Ron, nor Hermione noticed the figure that tailed them in the shadows.


	10. The First Attack

**Author's Note: I am so sorry for the wait. I was on vacation and wasn't able to write, but when I returned I had terrible writer's block. It's cured now, so here you are. **

**RISING FROM THE ASHES**

_Chapter Ten – The First Attack_

"Thank you," Hermione said kindly to the innkeeper, handing over some of the Muggle money she had left. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had come to Godric's Hollow dressed in Muggle clothing, as the village wasn't entirely Wizarding. They left the front desk and headed up to their room, exhausted. The trio had managed to get a few hours' sleep in the woods, but it had been a restless, disturbed sleep, especially for Harry.

_Was it really wise,_ he had wondered, turning over and trying to make himself comfortable on the forest floor, _for them to be asleep out in the open? What if they were being followed? They could be attacked in their sleep and it would be his fault…his fault…_

Harry had dreamed that he was in a room, and there was no way to escape. Ginny was with him, and he had wanted to badly to comfort her, for she was crying, but he found he couldn't move his feet. A figure had stepped out of the shadows. A figure with snake-like nostrils, and cruel red eyes. It was Voldemort.

"Harry! Help me!" Ginny had pleaded, but Harry could do nothing. He had tried to call out that he loved her, but he had no voice.

"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort had shouted.

"No!" Harry had awoken with a start, rolled over, and whispered, "No…" and fallen back asleep. He didn't remember his dream in the morning.

…

"So," said Hermione, plopping down on one of the three beds in the room, "where are we going first, Harry? Your old house or your parent's graves?"

"I thought we might go see my house first," said Harry, who was still a bit nervous about the prospect of seeing where his parents had died– and where he hadn't.

"Sounds good," said Ron, "but how do you know which one is yours?"

"I hadn't thought of that," said Harry uncertainly, "I always thought I would just…know, y'know?"

"Well, we can ask around," Hermione said, "Ask where the Potters lived, and if someone could take us there,"

"Do you reckon it would be better to figure out which ones are Muggles and which are wizards so that we can get a wizard to take us?" Ron asked her.

"It would actually be better if it were a Muggle," said Hermione. "We can't afford to be recognized."

"True," said Harry. "So we basically look for people who don't stare at my scar?"

"Well, even a Muggle would, mate," said Ron, "It's not like that many people walk around with one of those slashed across their forehead – ow! That hurt, Hermione!" he complained, rubbing the spot where she had given him an admonishing slap.

"Harry, you'll be fine, don't worry," she said, trying her best to glare at Ron but smiling slightly all the same. It seemed she couldn't stay mad at him anymore.

They left the inn, wands hidden in the front pockets of their jeans, and set out to find someone Muggle to take them to the former home of Lily and James Potter.

This proved difficult. Everywhere they went there were people staring at Harry. An old woman came out of her house to hang up her laundry, gave a yelp of shock, and ran back in, slamming the door.

Whispers followed them as they continued to walk, searching for someone who didn't gape at the sight of them.

"_It couldn't be – not James Potter?"_

"_He died so many years ago. It's some sort of a sign."_

"_But where's sweet Lily Potter?"_

"_But something looks different about him – his eyes aren't hazel anymore and he has that peculiar scar…"_

Harry stopped in his tracks. He nudged Ron and Hermione to get their attention.

"They think I'm my dad," he hissed, "this isn't good."

"And if we go around telling them you're _Harry_ Potter, for all we know there are Death Eaters about," Hermione said anxiously, running a hand through her hair.

"Yeah, well," said Ron, putting a comforting arm around her, "the damage has already been done. If Voldemort hears that James Potter came back to Godric's Hollow, he's sure to know it's Harry anyway. We might as well tell people and not have to explain how a dead man has suddenly come back to life."

Hermione smiled weakly. "I guess you're right," she said.

"Er, excuse me," said Harry, addressing a woman who looked to be in her late thirties, and had been staring at them for the past five minutes, "uh, I'm the son of James and Lily Potter, and I just – I wanted to come back and visit my old house. The, er, trouble is I don't know where it is. Do you think you could help us?"

"Harry Potter," she whispered, "I knew your parents well. We were friends in school. " She turned to Ron and Hermione. "He does look remarkably like his father, except for his eyes, he has his –"

"Mother's eyes," Harry, Ron, and Hermione chorused.

"Exactly," she smiled. "You're in luck. Their home isn't too far from here. I –I haven't visited since… that night, but I've heard that the Muggles have tried renovating and building a new house but we wizards put a Muggle-repelling charm on the property so that Halloween night will never been forgotten. And if you want to visit their graves, there's a graveyard not too far from their house that only wizards can see, it's not far out of your way at all. Please excuse me for just giving you directions." I'm just not ready to go with you yet."

"That's quite alright," said Hermione politely, "which way should we go?"

"Straight up the street, take a left after two blocks, and head straight. It'll be the third house on the right."

"Thank you," said Harry, and they set off.

"Now remember, Harry," said Hermione, "There might not be, well, much there."

"I know," said Harry stubbornly, "I just want to see the place where it all began."

They followed the woman's directions, passing cottages as the area grew slightly more rural, and when they reached their destination, they knew at once they were in the right place.

Huge chunks of rubble were sprawled out across the property, and a thick layer of dust had settled upon them. Broken pieces of furniture, and tattered shreds of clothing were scattered between the large stones that had once been Harry's home.

Harry's throat closed up, and too his horror he could feel his eyes begin to well with tears. He brushed them away angrily.

"I never even knew them," he muttered darkly, swaying on the spot. He plopped down in front of where he had once lived, unable to stand upright. "The only memory I have of them is their death."

"Oh, Harry," said Hermione gently, kneeling beside him. Ron joined her, looking worried.

"No, I'm fine," he said, taking a deep breath and standing up. "I – I just need some time alone. I'm sure you two can find something to do," he smiled slightly as the two of them blushed.

"See you in a bit then," said Ron awkwardly, and he and Hermione headed back in the direction from which they had come.

Harry stared at the place that had once been his, and then reached down to pick up a rock from the pile. It had a piece of peeling wallpaper on one side of it, and Harry tucked it in his pocket for safekeeping. He wanted to remember this. Always.

He lifted his head and thought he could vaguely make out a sign in the distance that said "Graveyard", and began to walk towards it, a knot in his stomach.

…

Harry passed over what seemed like hundreds of graves before finally arriving at his parents'.

He traced a finger over his mother's name.

LILY POTTER

_1959 – 1981_

_Loving mother, wife, and friend, and a talented Unspeakable_

Harry looked up, alarmed. His mother had been an Unspeakable? That meant she had worked in the Department of Mysteries…

Not quite sure what to make of this, he moved onto his father's tombstone. It read:

JAMES POTTER

_1959 – 1981_

_Brave, loyal and loving to the end, and a magnificent auror._

Harry felt his heart twist painfully. So his father had been an auror. Just what he, Harry, aspired to be.

After a few moments, Harry stood up, whispered "Thank you.", and walked back to the inn.

…

He caught sight of Ron and Hermione in the lobby, huddled over a newspaper.

"Harry, come here, quickly. Read this," Hermione said, beckoning him over.

"What is it?" Harry asked curiously, taking the copy of _The Daily Prophet_ out of her hands. He read the headline, and his mouth fell open.

**DEATH EATERS ATTACK MUGGLE FAMILY – HELD OFF BY SUPPOSEDLY MUGGLE SON**

Quickly reading the rest of the article, Harry managed to gather what had happened. The Death Eaters had come looking for him, and had tried to kill the Dursleys. Somehow Dudley, although not a powerful wizard by any means had managed to hold them off with the type of accidental magic Harry had used before his education at Hogwarts just long enough to keep the Dursleys safe until the aurors arrived ten minutes later after being alerted by elderly Mrs. Figg.

Harry's insides froze. Much as he loathed the Dursleys, he certainly didn't want them dead because of him.

He looked up from the paper and announced, still not sure what he was getting himself into, "We've got to go back to Privet Drive."


	11. Aunt Petunia's Secret

**RISING FROM THE ASHES**

_Chapter Eleven – Aunt Petunia's Secret_

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood tentatively on the doorstep of number four, Privet Drive. Everything looked as it always had, the large square house was framed by a low garden wall, with a neatly kept hydrangea bush underneath the living room window. The emerald-green lawn sparkled in the afternoon sun, yet the seemingly calm atmosphere had an air of foreboding to it.

Walking up the front staircase, Harry thought he could feel prickles of what could only be described as a strange sort of negative energy surrounding him, but he brushed it out of his mind. He was just anxious, just imagining things.

"I thought I'd left this place forever," Harry said dully, "and now I'm back, of my own accord."

"You're doing the right thing, Harry," Hermione assured him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"That doesn't make it any easier, Hermione," he replied. "This so-called family gave me hell for sixteen years, and yet here I am, checking to make sure they're okay and seeing what I can do to help."

"We're here if you need us, mate," said Ron, and Harry nodded.

"Thanks," he said, and stepped forward to ring the doorbell.

A loud, high-pitched scream, followed by the sound of breaking glass came from inside the house.

Harry grimaced. Understandably, the Dursleys had been frightened so badly by the Death Eater's attack on their household that they had become incredibly skittish. It was completely reasonable, but it would make this visit much harder.

A shuffling of feet was heard, and a loud voice, presumably Uncle Vernon's came from behind the door.

"Who's there? I – I'm a dangerous man and I swear if its you people back again – we've got quite the police force here, and I have a gun by my side! We won't hesitate to attack you if –"

"It's me, Harry Potter," Harry said, bracing himself for his uncle's outburst.

Uncle Vernon flung the door open, his eyeballs bulging.

"Get inside," he hissed, "quickly, before anyone – who are these people?"

He had just noticed Ron and Hermione.

"They're my friends," Harry said coldly, "and they're coming if I am."

"Fine, I don't care, just come in and close the door," said Uncle Vernon in a strangled sort of voice.

Harry, giving Ron and Hermione a significant sideways glance, did as he was told. Together, they took a seat on the living room couch.

"Petunia!" Uncle Vernon bellowed, "It's _him_, he's back."

Aunt Petunia, who Harry now discovered had been hiding in the kitchen, came back into the living room, clutching Dudley's hand.

She gasped, her horse-like face wide with shock.

"So, boy," said Uncle Vernon angrily, "what are you doing back here? I hope you realize that what has happened is entirely your fault! You have some nerve, coming back here after we've been attacked because of you!"

Harry felt as though a stone had been dropped into his stomach. Although what his uncle was telling him was cruel, it was also very true. If Voldemort hadn't thought Harry would have been at Privet Drive, he wouldn't have bothered to attack the Dursleys at all.

"I came back here to make sure you lot were alright!" Harry said furiously.

Uncle Vernon continued as though he hadn't heard him. "As for Dudley's lapse of abnormality…"

"His 'lapse of abnormality' saved your neck!" Harry shouted, insides boiling. He had never liked Dudley, who deserved a lot of things, but what he didn't deserve was to be treated like a freak by his own father.

Tears trickled down Aunt Petunia's cheek as she clutched Dudley – who was very pale and frightened looking – to her chest.

"And you knew!" Uncle Vernon said accusingly to his wife. She didn't deny it, but kept her pale face impassive.

"I will not tolerate another show of your freakishness, Dudley." Said Uncle Vernon coolly. "You are a Dursley – perfectly normal – and you better believe that you will act as such."

Dudley hung his head, his multiple chins folding over each other. Harry had never before seen him look ashamed, and it was quite startling. He did not in any way believe, however, that the recent events would make Dudley turn over a new leaf. He was quite sure that once his cousin recovered, he would be back to his old bullying self.

"Well," said Harry, standing up, "we just came by to make sure that everything was alright here, and since it seems to be, we'll be going now."

"Wait," said Aunt Petunia quietly. So quietly, in fact, that Harry couldn't be entirely sure she had spoken at all. Perhaps he had just been imagining things, but then she spoke again.

"I need to give you something else," she said to Harry's feet. The rest of the room stared at her as she walked determinedly to the staircase and kneeled down next to the bottom stair, which always creaked when stepped on. To Harry's astonishment, she lifted the floorboard which the stair consisted of, revealing a crevice. Apparently hiding things underneath floorboards ran in the family.

"Here," she said, removing a bundle from it and shoving it into Harry's arms. "Letters from your mother, some photographs. Some messages from Albus Dumbledore. Mind y-you tell him I gave these to you."

"I can't," said Harry, feeling the familiar twisting of his stomach return, "as he's dead."

Harry wasn't quite sure why he had told them this. It wouldn't have mattered to the Dursleys. He distinctly remembered his uncle referring to Dumbledore as a crackpot old fool, but a mixture of anger at his uncle's ignorance, and astonishment that his aunt had saved memories of her dead sister had compelled him to say it.

He left without another word to any of them, beckoning Ron and Hermione to follow him. And, strange as it seemed, he could have sworn he heard a sharp sob escape from his aunt before he closed the door on his childhood.


	12. Friend or Foe?

**RISING FROM THE ASHES**

_Chapter Twelve – Friend or Foe?_

**Author's Note: First of all, I'm sorry I took so long to update, school is crazy right now, and I haven't had time to sit down and write. Secondly, it appears that I gave myself a review? Yeah, no. My friend was logged in on my account when she reviewed this story, so I just thought I'd let you all know. On with the story!**

"Well, that went well," Ron commented as he, Harry, and Hermione made their way down the front steps of 4 Privet Drive.

"Very," said Harry dryly.

Their visit to the Dursley's had most certainly _not _gone well. In all honestly, it probably could not have gone worse.

He clutched the belongings his Aunt Petunia had bestowed upon him, wondering what had possessed her to act so UnDursleyish. He really wanted to get a good look at all that she had given him, and fully intended to as soon as he had a second to spare. Aunt Petunia had mentioned some letters from his mother…what would she have had to say to her bitter, hateful, Muggle sister?

"So," said Hermione, pulling him out of his thoughts, "where to next?"

Harry sighed, resigning himself to their coming destination.

"I was thinking Grimmauld Place," he said wearily.

Although Sirius' old house was the last place he was keen on visiting, it could provide valuable resources on their quest to destroy the remaining horcruxes. Perhaps some of the books on dark magic would supply more information about how they were formed, and how one might go about destroying them.

Harry tucked the parcel his aunt had handed him into his traveling bag, and after making sure no Muggles were peeking through their curtains, performed a Disillusionment charm on himself, Ron, and Hermione.

"Twelve Grimmauld Place is unplottable," he said, turning to Hermione, "but numbers eleven and thirteen aren't, so do you reckon we could find them on the atlas?"

"We should be able to," said Hermione, peering over his shoulder at the atlas he had extracted from his bag. "Oh, look, there it is!" she exclaimed, prodding her wand at the tiny dot labeled Thirteen Grimmauld Place.

"Right," said Harry decisively, "from what I can remember about my trip from the Dursley's to there in our fifth year, the flight is quite a few hours, but we should arrive before nightfall."

…

Harry's memory however, turned out to be completely incorrect.

"We should've been there _ages_ ago," he moaned, "I don't understand! It didn't take nearly this long with the Order!"

"M-maybe we took a wrong turn," Hermione said, teeth chattering in the cold night air. She clutched tighter to Ron, who didn't seem too bothered by this, and peered over his shoulder.

"No, Hermione," Ron insisted, "I've been checking and double checking every turn we made – they're all according to the –"

"_Upside-down_ atlas, Ron, you idiot!" she spat, tearing the map out of his grip.

"Oh," said Ron sheepishly, turning fire-engine red from the tips of his ears to the nape of his neck.

Hermione made an exasperated tutting noise, carefully scrutinizing the map as Ron continued to guide the broomstick across the starry skies.

"I have absolutely no idea where in Merlin's name we are!" she exclaimed, biting her lip anxiously. "Harry, I think it would be best if we called it a night, and found a place to stay. We can retrace our steps and find our way back to Grimmauld Place in the morning."

Harry stared into the vast, pitch-black sky before them. He was so very tired, and wanted so much to just collapse into his four-poster bed at Hogwarts. Considering his state, he'd be happy to be able to collapse into a pile of prickly hay, so long as he could just close his eyes.

"Yeah," he said, "you're right, Hermione. Alright then, let's dismount in that clearing a few yards down."

Hermione shrieked as Ron and Harry took off simultaneously, zooming towards the grassy field, and pulling their brooms straight seconds before hitting the damp dirt.

"I really, _really_ don't like flying," Hermione said breathlessly, crumpling into a heap on the earthy terrain.

"We noticed," said Harry and Ron together, exchanging grins.

Hermione huffed, picking herself off the ground and brushing leaves out of her hair.

"I think I see something, a house of some sort," she said. "Lumos!"

The clearing lit up with light from her wand tip.

"Yeah," said Ron, "maybe they'd be willing to take us in for the night?"

"Oh, Ron," Hermione said, sniffing in that infuriatingly superior way of hers, "we have no way of knowing if they're friend or foe. For all we can tell, that could be a Death Eater's house!"

"Well," said Ron, gritting his teeth, "why don't we hide under Harry's cloak, knock on the door, stay if they seem trustworthy and run for it if they don't?"

"I still don't think..." Hermione began, but Harry cut her off.

"It's the best we've got, Hermione," he said. Truth be told, he wasn't thrilled about their plans. Would an invisibility cloak really be enough protection if it was the place of a Death Eater? Or perhaps someone, or some_thing_ far more sinister…

Harry, Ron, and Hermione threw the cloak over themselves, and crept up toward the hill that sat at the base of the house, and upon venturing closer discovered it was not a house, but rather a mansion.

"Bloody _hell_," whispered Ron. "S'nearly the size of Hogwarts itself!"

Harry responding by punching his shoulder, leaving Ron a painful reminder that silence was crucial at this moment. They had arrived at the door.

Drawing in a deep breath, Harry squeezed his eyes shut and knocked three times, waiting with baited breath.

Footsteps were heard, and a loud, drawling voice called out "I'll get it, mother. That stupid old house-elf doesn't know what its doing."

Harry could practically feel the anger radiating off Hermione at these words, and he shot her a warning look underneath the cloak. She couldn't betray their presence.

Whoever it was answering the door fumbled with the doorknob, Harry could hear the click of a key in the lock, and he anxiously watched the handle turn, ever so slowly…

Harry's eyes flew open just as the door did. He recognized that voice, and unfortunately he recognized the blonde boy who stood before him, too.


	13. Conversations with a Portrait

**RISING FROM THE ASHES**

_Chapter Thirteen — Conversations with a Portrait_

"Smith," said Harry coolly, pulling off the cloak.

"Potter?" Zacharias Smith asked, astonishment washing over his formerly arrogant features. His eyes darted suspiciously from Harry, to Ron, to Hermione. "What are you doing at my house?"

"Your house!" Ron exclaimed, staring at the vast estate before him.

"Yes, Weasley, _my_ house," he smirked, "now, if you'd be so kind as to just leave…" he began to close the door, but a short woman with hay-colored tumbling curls stuck her foot in it.

"Now, Zachie," she scolded, causing the Hufflepuff to groan and pinch the bridge of his nose, "are these friends of yours from school?"

Her use of the nickname "Zachie" caused Ron to let out an audible snigger, earning a jab in the side from Harry and Hermione.

"No, mother," he said, eyeing them disdainfully, trying to shut the door again, but it was too late. Mrs. Smith had spotted Harry.

"By Helga!" she exclaimed delightedly. "If it isn't Harry Potter," she beamed up at them, "I'm** Bonnie Smith, pleased to make your acquaintance."**

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Smith," Harry said politely, extending a hand to shake hers, his long fingers curling around her short stubby ones.

She giggled girlishly. "Please, call me Bonnie. Now how can I help you and your friends?"

"Er," said Harry, looking uncertainly at Zacharias Smith, who was giving him a fierce glare, "we've gotten lost, and need a place to stay the night. Would it be alright if we –"

"Stayed here?" she asked kindly. "Of course it is my dear. We've plenty of room to spare, as you can see," she said, gesturing around the enormous reception area.

"Yeah," said Harry shifting his feet, "I can see that."

Zacharias snorted, and Ron shot him a glare, but kept his mouth shut, not daring to insult him in front of his mother.

"Shall I find you each a room, then?" Mrs. Smith (for Harry didn't quite feel comfortable calling a woman he barely knew by her first name) asked them. "My husband's away on business, so it'll just be us five for the night."

"Okay, thank you," Harry said, and followed her up a winding staircase to the second story.

"Your rooms are down that hall," she said, motioning to her left. "I do reckon I'll have a spot of brandy and then turn in for the night. Care to join me?"

"No," said Hermione, speaking for the first time since they'd arrived, "we're all very tired, but thank you for the offer."

"Well, if you insist," said Mrs. Smith, looking a little taken aback. "Goodnight then. I'll have a house-elf wake you in the morning."

"That'd be great," said Ron, and he and Harry pulled Hermione away before she could protest.

"I will not be woken by slave labor," Hermione sniffed indignantly.

"Haven't you given up on _spew_ yet, Hermione?" Ron asked exasperatedly.

"It's S.P.E.W., and you'd do well to remember that, Ron Weasley!" she snarled, her voice dangerously low. "You'd also do well to remember that my dueling skills far surpass yours."

Ron glared at her, his cobalt blues eyes becoming slits. "Is that right?" he asked, leaning against the wall of the hallway. "Who got cursed with that wonky purple hex not too far into the battle at the Ministry, then, eh?"

"Yes, and who accio'd a brain?" Hermione responded viciously.

"I – you –" Ron spluttered, folding his arms over his chest, "Harry! A little help here, mate?"

Harry didn't respond. He simply stared, transfixed, at the portrait next to the bedroom door.

"Harry?" Ron repeated, roughly shoving his shoulder, once again getting no answer or indication he'd been heard.

"I've seen her before," Harry said slowly, wonderingly.

"Who?" Ron and Hermione asked together, all thoughts of their dispute forgotten.

"That woman, the one in the portrait," he continued dazedly.

Hermione frowned. "She doesn't look familiar to me," she said, leaning in to get a closer look. "It says here that her name is…"

"Hepzibah Smith," Harry interrupted, still staring at the portrait.

"Yes," said Hermione, her eyebrows crinkling, "how did you know?"

"I saw her in Dumbledore's memory," Harry explained, eyes fixed on the dozing portrait, "she used to own Slytherin's locket and Hufflepuff's cup."

"So do you reckon Smith – Zacharias, that is – is her descendant?" Ron asked.

"Yeah," said Harry, "I mean, it would fit, wouldn't it? They share the same surname, and he's in Hufflepuff. For all we know, this could be her old house…"

Hepzibah Smith was currently snoring; her intricate ginger wig perched precariously on her enormous head. She wore flowing robes of lavender, similar to the lurid pink robes Harry had seen her in while viewing Dumbledore's memory.

"Reckon we should wake her up?" Ron asked in a hushed whisper, glancing at her picture.

"Well, we want answers, don't we?" Harry responded, and lightly tapped her portrait.

"Excuse me," he said quietly, not wanting to wake Zacharias or his mother. Hepzibah snored on.

"Hello?" he tried again, this time rapping on her frame.

She woke with a start, her garish pink colored lips opening in surprise.

"Whas' this now?" she asked groggily, raising her pudgy hands to rub her eyes.

"Sorry to wake you," Harry said carefully, "but we were wondering if we might be able to ask you a few questions."

"What on earth would you want to talk to me for?" she asked, patting her wig back into place.

"We, erm…" Harry began, but was cut off by Hermione.

"We're doing a research report for school," she invented, "and we've read all about you – you're Hepzibah Smith, aren't you? Hufflepuff's heir? Well, we've, uh, read so much about you that we decided to seek you out for additional information because you were just so … fascinating." she said, eyeing Hepzibah's putrid robes and wig distastefully.

Harry and Ron, of course, saw right through Hermione's bald-faced lie, but Hepzibah Smith, as Harry recalled from Dumbledore's memory, was prone to being won over through flattery.

"Ooh," she squealed girlishly, "well, isn't that just lovely. What do you want to know now, dear?"

Hermione winced at being referred to as "dear", but continued on. "Didn't you once own Hufflepuff's golden cup, and Slytherin's locket?

Hepzibah's scarlet face darkened. "Yes," she said softly, "I used to…" she trailed off, staring determinedly into space.

"What happened?" Harry prodded, even though he knew full well.

"The last I remember seeing it was when young Tom Riddle came to visit me," she said, sighing dreamily. Harry and Ron exchanged looks of disgust, Ron muffling a snort of laughter with a fake cough, before turning back to listen. "I died later that day," she continued, "I remember tasting something funny in my drink, but I disregarded it, and the next thing I knew I was … dead, and in my portrait," she concluded, sounding a bit like Moaning Myrtle to Harry.

"Do you know where they ended up?" Harry asked keenly, heart racing.

"No idea whatsoever," she replied primly, folding her hands together. A flicker of suspicion crossed her face. "What is the basis of your research project?" she asked, beady eyes narrowing.

"History of Hufflepuff," Ron said automatically, picking a flower vase off the table underneath her portrait and tossing it carelessly from one hand to the next.

"Stop that!" she shrieked, "That vase belonged to my mother you —"

"Silencio," Hermione said quickly, and although Hepzibah Smith continued to shout, her cries were no longer heard.

Harry sighed, running a hand through his dark messy hair. "So we're no better off than we were before," he stated bitterly. "Let's just get some sleep then, shall we?"

"Yes," Hermione agreed, "and maybe Mrs. Smith or Zacharias will know something about the cup."

"I doubt it," Harry said, "Dumbledore told me that Hepzibah's descendants had no more of an idea where the cup went than Dobby has of how to tap-dance."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him, and Harry chuckled. "Well, those weren't his exact words, but you get the idea."

…

Harry yawned, pulling the covers of the oak bed back and sliding between the sheet and the comforter. It had been a very long day, and he was very ready to close his eyes and drift into a peaceful slumber, but visions of a certain red-headed Weasley that wasn't Ron or any of his brothers kept dancing unbidden through his head.

When he finally fell asleep, his dreams were far from peaceful. Distorted images of his mother screaming for his life swept him into a fearful whirlwind, blending together with his wistful fantasies of Ginny, so that soon he could not tell whether it was his mother screaming or Ginny. Whichever of the two it was, she was dressed in a white gown with a glimmering silver tiara perched upon her head.

The beautiful red-headed woman screamed again, and her gown became drenched in blood, streams of it pouring from the satin bow below her heart. Her eyes slowly drooped shut as high-pitched cackles filled the air.

She staggered forward, clutching her chest as she grew as pale as the material in which she was dressed. Lily – or Ginny – Harry still could not tell which, swayed where she stood, and fell forward into an intricate mirror which Harry recognized as the Mirror of Erised.

The glass shattered, shards of it embedding into her soft skin. She wailed even louder still, eyes wide as she looked around frantically, searching…

Another figure rose from among the shards of glass, smoke twirling around her battered body as she ascended toward the stone ceiling of the enormous room. It twisted throughout her matted brown hair, and Harry, horrified, recognized the figure as an ash-coated Hermione.

Ginny – or was it Lily – rose slowly into the air to float beside her, her head dropping onto her shoulder as though her neck were broken.

They floated side by side, the redhead still dripping blood onto the cold stone floor, and cold tears falling like rain from Hermione's terrified brown eyes.

And all the while, Dobby tap-danced to Celestina Warbeck's "Beat Back Those Bludgers, Boys, and Chuck That Quaffle Here", the upbeat music mixing with the soulful and tragic sounds of a phoenix song.


	14. The Heirloom Chamber

**RISING FROM THE ASHES**

_Chapter Fourteen – The Heirloom Chamber_

"Guspy _does_ wish you'd wake, sir, her mistress will be most displeased if you misses breakfast, sir," Harry heard a squeaky voice say anxiously. He sat up and put on his glasses, finding a tea-cozy sporting house-elf hovering over him. He swung his legs out of bed, and the house-elf called Gupsy beamed at him.

"Now if only Gupsy could get the other two guests up! The spotted one just wouldn't _budge,_ Harry Potter, sir, and the girl is awake, Gupsy _knows_ it, but she just ignores Gupsy and keeps muttering to herself about slave labor, and Gupsy does not wish for her mistress's guests' breakfast to get cold, oh no, Harry Potter sir!" she said, wringing her hands and looking very bothered indeed.

Harry snorted, not at all surprised at the antics of his two friends, and slid his feet into his trainers. "I'll wake them, Guspy," he assured the worried house-elf.

"Oh, Gupsy thanks you!" she exclaimed, curtsying to him. Harry bowed back rather uncomfortably, still not used to being waited upon in such a fashion. "Gupsy will see you in a few minutes, sir!" and with that, she snapped her fingers and with a loud _crack_ vanished from his room.

Shaking his head, Harry dressed quickly and exited his room, making his way down the hall until he arrived at Ron's door.

"Better not have to get Hermione to snog him again," he mumbled, and pushed open the door.

Ron lay spread-eagled on his back, tangled in the bed sheets and snoring loudly, mouth agape. Rolling his eyes, Harry tugged hard on the corners of his blankets so that Ron landed on the floor with a loud _thump_.

His eyes shot open. "Wuzgoinon?" he demanded blearily, mussing his hair and rolling over to face Harry. Noticing he was on the floor, Ron jumped to his feet and gave Harry a reproving smack on the arm. "What was that for?" he asked, rubbing the spot on his back where he had hit the floor.

Harry shrugged. "I didn't feel like waking Hermione first to have her snog you awake this time."

"I prefer that to falling on the floor," Ron said darkly, following Harry out of his room and picking up his traveling bag along the way.

"Breakfast is ready," Harry told him, "I'll meet you downstairs, I have to deal with Hermione and that house-elf obsession of hers."

"Want help?" asked Ron, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

"Yeah, actually," said Harry, surprised, "that would be great, thanks."

"Alright," said Ron, "I'll fetch Smith and have him help you." He grinned at Harry, knowing full well he would rather face Hermione's wrath alone than with Zacharias Smith.

"Never mind then," said Harry, "I'll see you downstairs."

He knocked cautiously on the door to the room in which Hermione slept. After several minutes of silence, he opened the door. One of Hermione's dark brown eyes popped open as he did so, and she peered at him cautiously.

"Oh Harry," she said, yawning and sitting up, "it's you. I was expecting it to be the –"

"Slave labor, yeah I know, Hermione," said Harry irritably. "Listen, breakfast is ready, and we really need to get a move on."

"Who prepared the breakfast?" Hermione asked, crossing her arms over her chest and furrowing her eyebrows.

Harry said nothing.

"I thought so," Hermione said stiffly, and hopped out of her bed, smoothing the covers and fluffing the pillows. "Well, Harry, I'd rather starve than eat something that was prepared by an enslaved being."

"Hermione," Harry groaned, "are you _ever_ going to give this up?"

"No!" she shouted, and slammed the door in her face.

Harry raised an eyebrow. Since when had Hermione slammed doors in people's faces? He turned around to find Ron standing behind him chewing on a piece of toast.

"Blimey Harry," he said wonderingly, "What did you do?"

"We started discussing S.P.E.W," said Harry resignedly, "and you know how well that usually goes."

"Yeah, but I mean, it's usually me that's got her all worked up like that," said Ron, in what Harry thought to be a bit of a petulant tone.

"Ron," Harry said, suppressing a laugh with difficulty, "it's not like I'm going to take away the title of riling up Hermione from you, no need to worry!"

"I wasn't," Ron insisted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Uh huh," Harry replied, unconvinced. "Well, I'm going to go grab some breakfast."

"Okay," Ron replied, taking one last look at the door which Hermione had slammed so viciously, "I'll come with you."

They made their way down the staircase and took seats across from Mrs. Smith at the dining room table.

"So, are you ready to eat this delicious breakfast Guspy has prepared?" Mrs. Smith asked cheerily, spreading raspberry jam across her scone and taking a bite.

"Yes," said Harry pleasantly, "but my friend Hermione – she's, er, feeling a bit … under the weather and won't be down until we're ready to leave." He turned to face Ron, who was once again stuffing his freckled face, this time with eggs. "That should be in an hour or so," he added.

Zacharias glared at them from across the table, sullenly shoveling kippers past his pursed lips.

"Well, while you wait for your friend to feel better I'll have Zachie show you around," Mrs. Smith beamed, "we have so many intriguing artifacts, I'm sure at least one will be of some interest to you."

Zacharias choked on a kipper. "But _mum_," he protested, letting his fork fall onto his plate with a loud clatter, "I was supposed to go to the village with my mates today! They say there's a seer there who –"

"Well, your plans have changed, you're to show our guests around the Heirloom Chamber," Mrs. Smith said firmly, a sweet smile still fixed upon her face.

Zacharias stood, and with much griping and grumbling pushed his chair back. "Follow me," he muttered, pushing past Harry and Ron as they too got up from the table.

He led them to a giant marble staircase with golden varnish, bringing them to the third floor of the Smith estate and shepherding them impatiently into the first room on the right.

"This is the Heirloom Chamber," he said dully, sounding like an overworked museum tour guide in desperate need of a holiday, "we have sine artifacts that date back to 900 B.C. – that's before Hogwarts was founded."

A mixture of pride and arrogance was beginning to creep into his voice now – not that Harry was altogether surprised – Smith had always been the conceited sort.

"Some of them even belonged to Helga Hufflepuff herself," he added boastfully, sticking his nose in the air.

Harry looked up sharply. "What?" he asked quickly.

"Yeah," Zacharias drawled lazily, nonchalantly leaning against one of the surrounding stone walls, clearly enjoying himself now that he had Harry's attention. "Letters, jewelry, trophies…"

"Trophies!?" Ron asked eagerly, clearly catching on. He and Harry exchanged furtive looks. Could it be that one of the Smiths' trophies was Hufflepuff's cup; the horcrux they'd been searching for?

"That's right," Zacharias turned to face Ron, now eyeing the pair of them suspiciously, "but one's missing. It was stolen from my great-great Aunt Hepzibah ages ago. No one in my family has a clue where it might be, but a month or so ago we started hearing rumors that it's stashed somewhere at Hogwarts. Can't imagine what it might be doing there, but there you have it. Now have I showed you enough, or would you fancy poking around _my_ house some more?"

"No," said Harry absently, heart pounding against his ribcage. "Thank you. We'll just get Hermione and be on our way."

"Right then," said Smith loftily, and strode off, leaving them to themselves.

"There's no need to fetch me," came Hermione's voice from the hallway. She appeared to have just arrived when Smith had left. "I'm ready. So Harry, where are we going next? I was thinking it might be a good idea to try back at Grimmauld Place, because I was doing some more research and thinking about this whole thing and I think I know who –"

"We're not going to Grimmauld Place," Harry interrupted. "We've just had a breakthrough, Hermione. Hufflepuff's Cup! It's at Hogwarts!

Hermione gasped, hands flying to her mouth. "Oh, Harry," she said breathlessly, "are you sure?"

"I better be," Harry responded grimly. "It's the best we've got. I'll contact McGonagall through a grate and see if she can arrange for a Floo Network to be opened for us.

"So … we're going back?" Hermione asked, a wide smile spreading across her round face, "we really are going back?"

"Not as students," Harry reaffirmed hastily. But yeah, we are."

"Mind telling us why that makes you so happy?" Ron interjected.

"It's just –" Hermione's dark brown eyes sparkled with excitement, and she leaned comfortably against Ron's chest. Ron, looking rather pleased with himself, slipped an arm around her. "I really missed the library," she admitted, flushing a furious shade of red.

There was nothing to do but laugh.

"So we're really going back, then?" Ron asked, once their laughter had died down.

"Yeah," said Harry, smiling fondly, "we really are."


End file.
